


Sugar, Honey, Honey

by thefutureisbright



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Drug use (weed), Eventual Romance, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, Texting, Twitter, absolutely promise this fic will have a happy ending, eddie is a sassy little cinnamon roll, lots of swearing, richie loves him, sorry - Freeform, there will be angst and fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-10-08 00:48:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 29,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17376344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefutureisbright/pseuds/thefutureisbright
Summary: Eddie works in a bakery. His life was finally simple. He loved his job, he loved his friends, he loved his shitty little apartment with its shitty little balcony. He loved the plants he kept on his balcony. He loved that he could see the New York skyline when it was an especially clear day. He loved that he lived nowhere near his mother. Eddie loved his quiet, simple life.Until he met Richie fucking Tozier, and his life was never simple again.





	1. the more chocolatey the more bettery

**Author's Note:**

> !!! look at this. A new fic!! I'll be adding to this sporadically. I hope you like it!! Please do leave me comments if there are bits you like (or bits you hate!). Feed my fragile ego, please. 
> 
> S x x x
> 
> (p.s. in my head Richie looks like Matty Healy does in the video for Sincerity is Scary. Clothes an' all. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1K93ioXL63c)

Eddie loved working at the bakery. He loved getting up at 4:30am, wiping sleep from his eyes, before wrapping himself in 15 layers, and trudging down the cold New Jersey streets, coffee in hand, headphones in ears. The bakery was on the corner of a busy downtown street, next door to an Italian deli and a shop that sold records. The bakery was called _Breaking Bread,_ and was owned by a sweet old man called Jeremy who had flour in his veins and love in his heart. He’d employed Eddie when he was eighteen and fresh out of high-school. Eddie never wanted to go to college, much to his mother’s chagrin. Eddie wasn’t interested in math or science or history. Sure, he loved to read, and he often found himself watching documentaries about the ocean when he couldn’t sleep. The thing Eddie loved most in the entire world was baking. His mother had taught him to bake when he was five. Nothing too complicated, just brownies and cookies to start with. She’d hovered over him like a fly, buzzing in his ear, ‘ _watch your finger, Eddie-bear! Don’t hold the knife like that’._ After he’d proved to her that he was very much capable of cutting chocolate into chunks without slicing his finger-tips off, she’d eased up a bit. He taught himself to make cookies, cakes, savoury treats, and he’d dabbled with making his own pastries ( _he made a mean cream horn)._ So, when Eddie had finished high-school, with a 4.0gpa, his mother had wept and wept at the prospect of him abandoning his ( _her)_ dream of becoming a doctor, to spend his life kneading dough.

 

Eddie was 22 now, and had been working at _Breaking Bread_ for four years. In that time, he’d been promoted to assistant manager. There were technically only two employees at _Breaking Bread_ that weren’t Jeremy, but Eddie was proud of his promotion from ‘generic dough grunt’ to assistant manager all the same. Ben, the manager, was a sweet guy. He was Jeremy’s nephew, and only worked at the bakery part time, as he also went to college. He was kind and patient, and Eddie’s favourite shifts were Saturday mornings, when they’d both arrive at 5:30am, blast cheesy 80s power ballads through the tinny speakers, and dance around each other in the small kitchen, crafting masterpieces from dough. Eddie knew that working in a small bakery in downtown New Jersey wasn’t everyone’s idea of a fulfilling life, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

 

* * *

 

 

The 22nd of May started like any other normal Thursday. His alarm went off at 4:30am, shouting angrily in his ear until he rolled over and shoved it off the bedside table. The clock hit the floor with a metallic _twang_ , but the noise stopped. Eddie stretched, feeling his taught skin stretch satisfyingly over his rib cage, before hauling himself out of bed, and towards the bathroom.

 

Eddie arrived at _Breaking Bread_ at 5:13am exactly to find the shutters still pulled down over the entrance. Ben hadn’t arrived yet, then. The graffiti was still there, some illegible tag of one of the NJ gangs. Eddie wasn’t sure what it said – something about guns, probably. He dug the keys out of his pocket, and unlocked the tiny padlock at the bottom of the metal shutters, before leaping back with a small shriek as the shutters clanged nosily, opening with a screech. Eddie opened the door, and stepped into the cool darkness of the bakery. He flicked the light on in the shop, before letting himself into the back kitchen to start the ovens up. Ben arrived at 5:30am, to find Eddie knee deep in the sour-dough starter, ‘ _Tell it to my heart’,_ filtering from the speakers overhead.

 

‘G’morning, Eddie’

 

‘Hi Ben’, Eddie smiled. ‘I started the breakfast pastries, but I didn’t get ‘round to putting the muffins on yet, so you might have to do that. I’m in a bit of a mess here’. He grimaced, pulling his arms out of the large metal mixing bowl, shaking them gently. Bits of dough slopped from his arms back into the bowl. Ben just laughed at him.

 

‘Yeah, I definitely put too much liquid in that starter, sorry kid’.

 

They soon fell into their comfortable routine, dancing around each other as they usually did. They worked in silence, occasionally asking each other where something was, whether they needed more of something, or, when Eddie had left the tiger loaves in the oven for too long, _what the hell is that smell?_ They had to throw three charred loaves away.

 

They opened the bakery at 7:00am. A small queue of people were waiting outside, almost all regulars. Bill always came in at 7:00 to grab an apricot and honey pastry before he went to work, sticky sugar on his lips and a wolf-whistled compliment from Eddie in his ear. Eddie and Bill had known each other for over a decade. They’d gone to the same middle school, and they were still best friends years later. They spent basically all of Eddie’s days off together, usually lying on Bill’s living room carpet, watching some terrible movie. Eddie almost always fell asleep instantly, and he almost always woke up with his head on Bill’s lap, fingers carding lazily through his hair. Until about three years ago, Eddie would have considered himself to have been head over heels in love with Bill. Absolute, paralyzing love. This was until he’d gotten drunk at a house party and told Bill as such, who’d looked mildly horrified. It wasn’t that Bill was a homophobe – quite the contrary – but, to Bill, the idea of being romantic with Eddie was just… weird. He thought of Eddie like a brother. This had traumatised Eddie for about two weeks, before he decided that he’d rather have Bill in his life as his best friend than not at all. Now, three years later, Eddie would rather eat his own spleen than consider Bill anything other than his platonic soul mate. Anyway, Bill had Stan now. Stan was grumpy, uptight and sarcastic, and Eddie loved the absolute bones off him.

 

After the torch he’d been carrying for Bill had finally extinguished itself,  Eddie had had some meaningless one night stands. Sure, he’d fucked some guys, and sure, he’d been on a few casual dates with some of them, but nothing serious. Eddie wasn’t entirely comfortable with the idea of dating. He didn’t want to burden someone with all his baggage, he didn’t want someone to feel responsible for him. Mainly, though, he didn’t want to disrupt his routine. His life was finally simple. He loved his job, he loved his friends, he loved his shitty little apartment with its shitty little balcony. He loved the plants he kept on his balcony. He loved that he could see the New York skyline when it was an especially clear day. He loved that he lived nowhere near his mother. Eddie loved his quiet, simple life.

 

Until he met Richie _fucking_ Tozier, and his life was never simple again.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Eddie met Richie for the first time on a miserable Tuesday morning. He’d woken up late, and got half way to work before he realised he was still wearing his pyjama top. It was raining, and he’d gotten splashed by some fuckwad in a beamer, so had to spend the entire day wearing wet chucks. He’d gotten to work to find Ben – also soaking wet from the tempest outside – nursing a huge gash in his palm. A gash so deep and wide he’d ended up having to go to the emergency room, leaving Eddie to manage the morning rush on his own. Which was fine, honestly. Eddie wasn’t feeling resentful at all.

 

Eddie had been carefully laying out the white bloomers when he’d heard the doorbell go. It was half past eight by this point, and the morning rush had just about becoming the morning trickle. He was pretty sure he’d have about three hours before the shop got really busy again, with people buying their lunches. Eddie didn’t look up from what he was doing, half-listening to the footsteps walking towards the counter, and half trying to make sure the loaves in his arms stayed in his arms and didn’t end up all over the floor.

 

‘Hey, can I get one of those chocolate donut hole things, please?’

 

Eddie blinked.

 

‘Uh, what?’

 

‘Those donut hole things, the balls of dough with that chocolate paste in the middle, I’m pretty sure I got them from here, right?’ The guy stood on the other side of the counter asked, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, beaming.

 

Eddie blinked again.

 

‘You do know it’s half past eight in the morning, right?’

 

The guy just laughed, a syrupy, thick laugh that bounced off the balls. Eddie wanted to hear it again, immediately.

 

‘I know, I know. I’m a heathen but I just can’t focus until I’ve had my lips around some sugar’ The guy winked at Eddie, thick-rimmed glasses balanced on the end of his nose. He looked like an idiot. Eddie told him so.

 

‘Dude, gross. Also fix your glasses, they’re about to fall off your face’.

 

Eddie busied himself finding the chocolate donut holes from the trays under the main desk, where he’d stored them ready to display closer to noon. No one ever bought donut holes this early, so he never bothered to put them out. He put three of the chocolatey treats inside a brown paper bag, scrunching the top.

 

‘Three ninety-five please’

 

The guy handed over a five dollar bill. Eddie reached for the till, ready to get the stranger his change, before he felt a warm hand on his arm.

 

‘Don’t worry about the change, sugar. Think of it as a tip for your extra sweet service’. The guy winked at Eddie again, before opening the paper bag and shoving a donut hole in his mouth, chewing happily. Eddie, ridiculously, felt his face begin to tingle. Fuck. He was blushing.

 

‘Uh – thanks?’ he said dumbly, watching the guy in front of him chew. He was taller than Eddie, that much was obvious. Eddie, who stood at a modest 5”7, was shorter than most men, but this guy was especially tall. He was also pretty gangly, with awkwardly long limbs, but it looked good on him. He had broad shoulders, with unruly hair that sat in a messy crown around his head. He wore beaten up biker boots, with ripped skin-tight jeans, and a band shirt. He looked like a regular old indie kid, if Eddie was honest with himself. But what wasn’t regular about him was his face. He had a gorgeous face, all sloping lines and razor sharp angles. Sure, he had a nose that was slightly too pointy and his teeth were kind of weird ( _Eddie got a good look at his teeth when he was watching the guy chew with his mouth open – gross_ ) but he really was quite stunning.

 

Eddie, who realised he’d been staring at the guy for the past three minutes, coughed, embarrassed. The guy just quirked an eyebrow at him, obviously amused.

 

‘I’ve gotta dash now. Thanks for the treat, sugar’ the guy said, before spinning on his heels, and sauntering out of the shop. Eddie watched him unlock a bike that was attached to the lamppost outside, and ride off. Eddie stared at the spot the bike had been, a small smile on his lips.

 

Someone coughed behind him.

 

Eddie span around, fast enough that his trainers – still wet from his morning commute – skidded dangerously on the shiny linoleum floor. Ben was staring at him, eyebrow quirked, a playful smirk on his lips.

 

‘and who, my dear Eddie, was _THAT?’_

Eddie spluttered, the familiar tingly feeling returning to his face.

 

‘A customer? Just a – a regular customer? You know, we _ARE_ a bakery, ben, people DO come here to –‘ he started, prissily, before Ben’s laughter cut him off.

 

‘all right, princess, I was just saying – he was HOT’ Ben waggled his eyebrows on the word ‘hot’, shimmying his torso slightly, in a ridiculous but endearing way. If Eddie didn’t love Ben so much he’d throw a muffin at his head.

 

Eddie threw a muffin at his head anyway.

 

Ben scampered back to the kitchen, a ‘ _you’re paying for that!’_ on his lips.

 

Eddie seethed in the front of the shop, attacking the counter with a moist rag, which dispersed as many crumbs as it collected. Eddie reminded himself to buy new rags.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Eddie saw Richie the next day. That morning had been much less stressful than the day before. Eddie had woken up three minutes before his alarm had gone off, and jacked himself off slowly, not thinking about anyone in particular. Strong, broad shoulders, maybe. Large hands. Pale faces. No one specific, just amorphous bodies with vague, blank faces.

 

He’d walked to work with a spring in his step, humming along to some trashy pop song he’d heard on the radio yesterday. Ben was already at work when he arrived, hair swept off his face and secured under a garish bright green bandana. Eddie howled at this for three whole minutes, fat, joyful tears spilling down his face. Ben had just flicked his ass with a dishcloth, before asking Eddie to start icing the cinnamon rolls. Eddie loved icing, liked to pipe intricate, swirling designs on each bun. Each one looked different, snowflakes of pure white icing. Bill had come into the shop at the normal time, ordering his usual apricot and honey pastry. Eddie always teased him about eating that much sugar in the morning, insisting that Bill’s teeth were going to fall out. In response, Bill always did some weird red-riding-hood ‘ _ALL THE BETTER TO GUM YOU WITH’_ thing, chasing Eddie around the shop floor, lips covering his teeth.

 

‘Get the fuCK AWAY FROM ME –‘

 

Eddie’s screech was interrupted by the bell above the door, signalling that someone had just come into the shop. Eddie skidded to a halt, converse squeaking their annoyance. Bill charged straight into Eddie’s back, sending him flying forwards, and straight into the chest of the tall guy that came into the shop yesterday. Eddie’s head hit his chest with a solid _thwack,_ and he felt hands settle on his waist to steady him. Eddie stumbled backwards, hand on his forehead. The hands didn’t leave his waist.

 

‘Woah there, cowboy’ the guy chuckled, eyes bright and playful. ‘I knew you were falling for me, but I didn’t realise you’d already fall _en’_

 

‘That was terrible’ Eddie scoffed, still rubbing his forehead. He gingerly removed himself from the strangers hands, looking at Bill, whose eyes were darting between Eddie and the stranger. Eddie shot him a look that screamed ‘ _don’t you fucking dare’._ Bill kept his mouth shut, instead walking over to the display of muffins, which had suddenly become super interesting. Eddie walked back behind the main counter, and ran a hand through his hair.

 

‘I’m so sorry about that, Bill doesn’t know when to stop. Can I get you anything?’

 

The stranger glanced at Bill, who was still looking intently at the muffins.

 

‘Ah, Bill, eh? Is he your boytoy? Am I going to have to fight him for your affections, sugar?’ the stranger joked. Well, he phrased it like an innocent question, and his bright smile suggested it might have been a joke, but the fact that the smile twitched at the corner, and never quite reached his eyes, implied something different. At that, both Bill and Eddie erupted into raucous laughter. The stranger looked between them, questioningly. Once he caught his breath, Bill gave up pretending he was so interested in the muffins, and addressed the stranger directly.

 

‘Oh g-god no, E-E-Eddie is my b-best friend’ he spluttered, his stutter exaggerated by the fact he was still laughing, holding his stomach. The smile finally reached the strangers eyes.

 

‘Eddie, eh? Oh, Eddie Spaghetti, Apple of my eye’ the stranger crooned, one hand clasped firmly over his heart, the back of the other hand resting on his forehead. Eddie glared at him.

 

‘Please don’t call me that’

 

‘My name is Richie. Richard, technically, but I let the pretty boys call me Richie’

 

Eddie huffed, ‘Fine, _Richie,_ my name is Edward. But I let all the obnoxious strangers who eat donut holes at the crack of dawn call me Eddie. Now, can I actually get you anything?’

 

Richie asked for another three donut holes, ‘the more chocolatey the more bettery’. Eddie snorted at the terrible grammar, before picking the biggest, tastiest looking chocolate donut holes out of the tray under the counter and placing them in a paper bag. When Richie wasn’t looking – busy listening to Bill tell him about how he knew Eddie – Eddie snuck an extra raspberry and white chocolate twist into the bag. He wasn’t entirely sure what possessed him to do so, god knows Richie didn’t appear to need any more sugar. He told himself he was just being friendly, encouraging another customer to become a regular. Or something. It was nothing to do with the fact that Richie’s smile made him feel weak at the knees.

 

He passed the bag to Richie, who gave him 3.95 in change (Eddie had to count it three times because Richie kept distracting him) before Richie saluted him goodbye and left the shop, leaving Eddie staring after him and Bill laughing at the ‘ _gormless look on your face, Jesus, you look like a lovesick teenager, get a grip, Ed_ ’. Eddie told him to _fuck off_ , and slumped over the counter.

 

He knew Richie was trouble, but he couldn’t bring himself to care too much.


	2. Actual Angel™

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie breaks the routine. Eddie freaks out.

 

They settled into a routine. Richie came in, every morning, and bought three chocolate donut holes, and flirted outrageously with Eddie. Eddie always grumbled and told him to ‘ _fuck off, seriously dude, you’re disgusting’,_ but he always put an extra something in the paper bag before handing it over. Sometimes it was a pastry, sometimes it was a bread roll. It depended how annoying Richie was being that day, but he never left without an extra.  Richie never mentioned the extra treat. He’d open the paper bag in the shop, stick his hand in without looking to pull out a donut hole, and shove it into his mouth whole, before mumbling a ‘ _see ya spaghetti_ ’ and waltzing out the door. The routine became part of Eddie’s life, the same way getting the sour-dough starter out of the back cupboard was part of his life, and having to fish muffins that fell off the back of the tray out of the oven before they burnt was part of his life. It was just something he _did._

 

Richie promptly fucked it up, though. Their routine had lasted for about a month – a month of Richie coming in every day Eddie was working – before he fucked it up. Eddie had practically skipped to work, converse pounding the pavement. Eddie made a mental note to get a new pair – the sole of his was coming apart from the rest of the shoe. He’d gotten there before Ben, so set about pulling the shutter up from the floor ( _making sure to step back so it doesn’t clip him in the head like it did last Wednesday)_ and setting out all the different trays of breakfast items. Eddie had even taken to setting the chocolate donut holes out on their own little plate on the front counter. No-one but Richie ever bought one, but the first time he’d set them out, instead of leaving them under the counter, Richie had squealed.

 

‘You’ve done all this for little old me, sir? Why, how positively _scrumptious_ of you’ Richie had drawled in some aborted attempt at a southern belle accent, batting his eyelashes coquettishly. Eddie had just stared at him, biting back a laugh.

 

Bill came in, as he always did, and bought the honey and apricot pastry, as he always did. He hung around, like he always did, before ruffling Eddie’s hair and leaving to go to work, like he always did. Bill was reliable, dependable. Eddie loved this about Bill.

_Steady Eddie Jasper had always called him. Steady, old Eddie, Steady boring old Eddie. Eddie didn’t care though._

So, he liked routines. He liked knowing exactly how his days are structured, right down to the minute. That wasn’t something he was going to apologise for, even if it meant his longest relationship ( _4 years, five months and fifteen days but who’s counting_ ) ended in a blaze of ‘ _fuck you’s’_ and ‘ _I wish I’d never met you’s’._  

 

Half past nine came and went. Eddie was vaguely twitchy by now. Richie normally came in between half past eight and nine o’clock. Eddie tried to busy himself with organising the batch loaves by size, but his hands were shaky and he kept nearly dropping the whole-wheat.

 

‘Eddie, what the hell is wrong with you today, you’ve dropped three loaves!’ Ben sighed, dusting flour onto his hands. He was kneading a raisin dough. Eddie stared at a bit of discarded raisin on the floor, refusing to meet Ben’s eye.

 

‘I’m fine, Ben. I just don’t feel too well today’

 

‘He’s not come in today, has he?’. There was no point trying to lie to Ben. Eddie discovered this on his second shift, when he’d nearly vomited after having to touch the mouldy blue cheese to make the stilton wraps they sold at lunch time. He’d pretended that he was fine, that mouldy cheese was _totally_ something he could get behind, until his face had turned pallid and he’d nearly fallen over. Since then, Ben always made the wraps.

 

‘He’s probably just busy or something – caught up at work maybe?’ Ben punctuated every word with a short, strong pull of the dough. Eddie kicked the bit of raisin with his foot.

‘You don’t know that, though. He’s never been busy _before,_ he’s always been in here before nine’

 

‘Now you’re just being needy –‘

 

‘Oh piss of, Benjamin’ Eddie spat. ‘I’m not being needy, he’s been in here EVERY DAY for a MONTH and now he’s not here. I’m just concerned’

Ben put his hands up, defensive. More bits of raisin fell on the floor. Eddie rolled his eyes.

 

‘Okay, okay kid. I’m sorry. I know he’s been in here every day, I’m just trying to say that just because he doesn’t come in once doesn’t mean he’s been mauled by wolves on his walk over’

 

Eddie pursed his lips and raised his eyebrow at Ben, who chuckled heartily at the annoyance plain on his face.

 

‘Well, why don’t you look him up on Facebook? You could always message –‘

 

‘and how the hell would I do _THAT,_ Benjamin, if I don’t even know his full name?!’ Eddie said, exasperated. He sank to his knees, mentally willing himself to ignore the fact that they were now covered in flour, and began picking up the bits of raisin that kept falling off the table. Eddie made a mental note to ask Jeremy to let him make the raisin bread from now on – he was sure he’d make way less mess.

 

‘It’s Tozier’, Ben replied easily.

 

Eddie sprang to his feet, incredulous. Well, he _tried_ to spring to his knees, but in his haste – forgetting he was actually, in fact, half underneath the counter on the hunt for discarded raisins – bashed the side of his head painfully on the pointy corner of the counter.

 

‘ _motherFUCKER –_ what do you mean ‘it’s Tozier’?’ Eddie mocked, rubbing the side of his face with a flour-and-raisin covered hand. His eyes were watering now, _fucking counter fucking fuck fuck._

 

‘Jesus, Eddie are you okay?!’ Ben crowded him against the counter, looking worriedly at his head. Eddie was sure he’d have a dent. A big fat ugly dent. _Goddamn it._

 

‘yeah, yeah, mother goose I’m fine, _fuck._ Okay so, Richie Tozier? How the hell do you know his _surname?_ I don’t even know whether Richie is his real name or just a nickname!’

 

‘Oh, he told me when you were looking for the pastry baskets once’ Ben was absently stroking the angry red mark that was rapidly appearing on Eddie’s face. ‘He calls me Ben HANDSOME’

 

‘Oh my fucking God, Ben, shut up. I can’t just _look him up on Facebook._ Well, I mean, I _could,_ but I couldn’t actually _message_ him, he’d think I was a fucking stalker’

 

‘I’m sure the man that calls you ‘ _sugar’,_ ‘ _pretty baby’_ and ‘ _angel cake’_ surely wouldn’t mind you messaging him to ask if he’s okay, Eds’

 

‘DON’T CALL ME THAT’ Eddie snapped, more out of habit than with any real malice. He flapped Ben’s hand away from his head, and stalked over to the door, staring out at the lamppost that Richie always tied his bike to – _had always tied his bike to._ Now Eddie really did feel like a needy asshole.

 

‘So…’ Eddie paused, hands clasped behind his back. ‘Tozier, then?’

 

* * *

 

 

The day had dragged more than it ever had before. Eddie was sure that Ben had been extra slow serving the last customers just to fuck with him. He’d practically been vibrating by the time Ben had told him he could leave, that he didn’t need Eddie to stick around. Normally, Eddie would argue and insist that he’d help Ben wash up the last few baking trays, or at least entertain Ben whilst _he_ tidied up the last few baking trays. But today, Eddie barely blurted out the ‘THANKS SEE YOU TOMORROW’ before he’d taken off down the street, converse slapping the pavement.

 

Eddie wasn’t really sure _why_ he felt the need to literally sprint the five blocks from the bakery to his house. He was pretty sure the internet wasn’t going anywhere ­– that he’d be able to find Richie’s Facebook regardless of when he got home. It just felt like the right thing to do.

 

Once he’d managed to shove the door to his tiny apartment open, and locate his macbook from underneath a pile of papers (he’d agreed to do the taxes for the bakery for Jeremy, who, at the ripe old age of 85, decided that taxes were something he didn’t want to have to think about anymore. Eddie had a 4.0gpa in math at high school, so really, he’d brought this upon himself, apparently _)._ He booted up the machine, and logged into Facebook.

 

Only, he didn’t search for Richie’s name. He just stared at the blinking cursor in the ‘ _search’_ box, glaring at it as it mocked him.

 

_Blink – YOU WON’T SEARCH – blink – YOU’RE TOO SCARED – blink – WHAT IF HE DIDN’T COME IN TODAY – blink – BECAUSE HE DOESN’T LIKE YOU – blink – AND HE JUST FLIRTS WITH EVERYONE_

Eddie sighed to himself.

_Does this make me an actual stalker? Does this make me a grade-A-grass-fed-certified freak? Or, is this totally excusable. It’s not like I searched for his surname myself. Ben gave it to me. That’s like, totally accidental acquisition of knowledge. No court would convict me. And, I’m like, totally just searching for him to check he’s okay… to check he’s not been mauled by wolves or whatever the fuck Ben said earlier._

 

Before he could convince himself that he was, actually, being an actual stalker, Eddie typed ‘Richie Tozier’ into the search bar with shaky fingers.

 

_0 Results. Did you mean Richie Tonoza?_

Eddie rubbed his eyes with his hands. _No I did not mean Richie fucking Tonoza._ He grabbed his phone.

 

**To: Benjamin Button:**

how do u spell Richies last name?

 

**From: Benjamin Button:**

…

 

**From: Benjamin Button:**

 I have no idea?

 

**From: Benjamin Button:**

Tozier I guess?

 

**From: Benjamin Button:**

eddie are you ACTUALLY SEARCHING FOR HIM DFGHJKJHGFGHJM

 

**To: Benjamin Button:**

Shut the fuck up > : (

 

**To: Benjamin Button:**

I don’t think he has facebook :( i cant find him :( Ben what :(

 

**From: Benjamin Button:**

mayb just google him??????

 

 

Eddie did just that. He closed the Facebook tab, and opened google.

 

‘ _Richie Tozier, 37,743 results’_

The first link was to a twitter page. @ _trashmouthtozier._ Eddie clicked. The display picture was definitely Richie. It was him, posing in front of a full length mirror. He was wearing dark grey slightly baggy jeans, cuffed at the ankle, so you could see his bright green socks. He wasn’t wearing shoes. He was wearing a grey and blue checked button down, only, it wasn’t buttoned down. It was open, so his toned chest and tummy were exposed. Eddie snorted.

_‘_ fuckboy’

 

He scrolled through Richie’s tweets, which were mostly just him retweeting memes, until a string of three tweets caught his eye.

 

 ** _Trash_** @trashmouthtozier

            An Actual Angel™ works in the bakery on main, just FYI

 

 ** _Trash_** @trashmouthtozier

             The Actual Angel™ from the bakery on main gave me extra treats today. Is this a               marriage proposal? It’s more likely than you’d think.

 

 ** _Trash_** @trashmouthtozier

[picture of Richie sticking his tongue out, balanced on a skateboard. A guy stands behind him with his hands wrapped around Richie’s shoulders, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face] mY LOVE <3

 

The picture made Eddie’s stomach drop straight to the floor. The caption, ‘mY LOVE <3’ was absolutely, definitely, unquestionably a reference to the guy hugging Richie’s shoulders. This guy had to be, absolutely, definitely, unquestionably Richie’s boyfriend. Eddie was sure of it. The tweets before it, however, planted a very hopeful but very tiny seed of doubt that this guy was Richie’s boyfriend. Could Eddie be the ‘Actual Angel™’? _Breaking Bread_ was the only bakery on main. In fact, it was the only bakery for a six block radius. So… unless Richie is actually hankering for some Hanscom loving…. Maybe??

 

Eddie continued to scroll through Richie’s twitter, occasionally snorting at some ridiculous meme, or spending too long to be simply curiosity staring at the many many _MANY_ selfies Richie posts. The selfies are linked to an Instagram page, but Eddie decided to look at that later. He scrolled and scrolled and scrolled through Richie’s twitter feed, until he saw a tiny little red heart pop up on one of Richie’s tweets about his bike gears jamming and how he flew over the handlebars and bruised his nose. Eddie could have vomited right there, all over his stupid fucking laptop and his stupid fucking fat fingers. He scrambled to ‘unlike’ the tweet, before slamming his laptop lid shut. He sat in the relative darkness of his tiny apartment, almost shaking with embarrassment.  Would Richie get a notification that @ _EddieKaspbrak_ liked his tweet? He couldn’t even pretend it wasn’t him. He was so obviously @ _EddieKaspbrak._ Why did he have to make his twitter handle literally his _ENTIRE_ name?

 

**To: Benjamin Button:**

does rich know my second name

 

**From: Benjamin Button:**

Uh…. Why?

 

**To: Benjamin Button:**

just answer the question ben

 

**From: Benjamin Button:**

mayb? i dont rlly remember…. why?? What happened?

 

 

_FUCK._

 

Eddie threw his phone on his ratty old couch.

 

* * *

 

 

Eddie was hiding in the bath. He’d panicked, after liking Richie’s six month old tweet, and decided the only thing that would make him feel better was if he wallowed in the bath like a melancholy hippo. He’d been lurking in here for nearly an hour. His skin was prune-y and dry, and the water was now tepid at best. He wasn’t entirely sure why he was hiding in here, like Richie was waiting for him in the other room. It just felt like the right thing to do.

 

He’d heard his phone make a few shrill noises whilst he’d been in here. A few text notifications, and a noise his phone hasn’t ever made before.

 

Eddie sank back down in the water, so only his eyes were visible above the surface.

 

* * *

 

 

Eddie woke with a jolt. He was now submerged in water that could only be described as ‘absolutely fucking freezing’.  He hauled his body out of the water, and wrapped himself in the fluffy white towel waiting patiently for him on the heated towel rack. He could weep with joy at the fact that, for once, he had actually remembered to turn the heating on _before_ he got in the bath. He padded into the living room, gingerly picking his phone up from its spot on the sofa.

 

                        _You have twelve new notifications!_

 

**From: Benjamin Button:**

U ok?

 

**From: Benjamin Button:**

Ed?

 

**From: Benjamin Button:**

Eddie seriously

 

**From: Big Bill:**

Hey dude! Stan and I were wondering if you wanna come over on Sunday? You’re not working right? We were thinking of doing fajitas. Lemme know ok?? Love you loads x x x x

 

**From: Big Bill:**

p.s. you can bring that hot piece of ass from the bakery if you like ;) ;)

 

**From: Big Bill:**

THAT WAS STAN

 

**From: Big Bill:**

But you totally can bring him if you want  x o x

 

            @ _trashmouthtozier followed you!_

_@trashmouthtozier direct messaged you:_

Eddie? My Eddie Spaghetti? What a sweet surprise!

 

_@trashmouthtozier direct messaged you:_

            How did u come across my humble part of the internet?

 

_@trashmouthtozier direct messaged you:_

            Playing hard to get now spaghetti?

 

_@trashmouthtozier direct messaged you:_

            I know your game, my love ;) ;) ;)

 

 

Richie had only sent the last message six minutes ago.

 

 @ _EddieKaspbrak:_

Hey Richie

 

_@trashmouthtozier direct messaged you:_

HE RETURNS

Gotta be honest Spaghetti

I was surprised to see you like a six month old tweet

 

 

@ _EddieKaspbrak:_

Oh God

 Richie I am so embarrassed   

 I just

Ben told me your surname so I

 I wanted to message you to see if you’re okay?

You didn’t come in today and you’ve been in every day for a month so

I’m sorry I’m such a fucking cringe

 

_@trashmouthtozier direct messaged you:_

 MY LOVE

 Ur so fuhkin cuuuuuuuuuuute

 Omg

 Omg imagine tracking me down on the internet to check if im okay

         

  

@ _EddieKaspbrak:_

I’m beginning to regret it now

 

 

_@trashmouthtozier direct messaged you:_

NOOOOOOO

Dont

Its so cute

Its seriously so cute

Eddie my love im afraid i might be dying

mike gave me his lurgy so ive been in bed ALL DAY :(

 

Eddie’s heart tightened. He pictured Richie lying all wrapped up like a burrito, nose red and face puffy. He was also sure that the litany of cute pet names was caused by whatever flu medication Richie was currently high on.

 

@ _EddieKaspbrak:_

Oh Richie :(

I’m so sorry you feel awful. Is Mike there? Can he get you some medicine?

 

_@trashmouthtozier direct messaged you:_

NO > : (

He abandoned me to go see ayla

asshole

Im all alone and I need some spaghetti lovin’

 

 

Eddie could feel his face turn beetroot red.

 

 

_@trashmouthtozier direct messaged you:_

i miss you :(

 

@ _EddieKaspbrak:_

You barely know me

 

A pause.

 

@ _EddieKaspbrak:_

I miss you too.

 I wish I could send you some treats

 

 

_@trashmouthtozier direct messaged you:_

 I mean

 I live a 10 minute walk from the bakery? :D :D :D :D

 

           

@ _EddieKaspbrak:_

Again

You barely know me

How can you be sure I’m not a psycho?

 

 

_@trashmouthtozier direct messaged you:_

you’re my sugar baby angel, you work in a bakery, the only way you’d kill me is by feeding me too many chocolate treats and giving me diabetes

 

           

@ _EddieKaspbrak:_

 diabetes is no joke

 

_@trashmouthtozier direct messaged you:_

 please Eddie I think I’m DYING

only the sight of your cute ass will save me

 

 

Eddie’s hands shook as he typed out his response, a hopeful smile playing on his lips.

 

@ _EddieKaspbrak:_

Hmmmmmmmm okay but if you live in some kind of sex dungeon I’m leaving immediately

I’ll come over before work

Which means I’ll be at yours at like 5:30am

But thats the only time im free

Ill tell ben I’ll be a bit late

Is that ok?

 

 

_@trashmouthtozier direct messaged you:_

MY SAVIOUR

 

Richie typed out his address. Eddie wrote it down in the notes on his phone. Several notifications came pinging through, indicating that Richie had been sending more direct messages. Eddie ignored them, for now.

 

**To: Big Bill:**

Hey babe (+Stan) so I just stalked the guy from the bakery and found his twitter and accidentally liked an old tweet of his and now Ive agreed to go to his and take him donut holes and im literally the most excited and terrified ive ever been so that’s whats new with me whats new with you i’d love to come over Sunday okay love you BYE X X X X X X

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, my loves <3 Lemme know if you liked anything in particular, (or if you hated anything!).


	3. This Isn't A Date, Just Good Customer Service

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nurse K, Poorly Richie and a nasty surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter!! As always, lemme know if you liked any particular bit, or if you hated any particular bit. 
> 
> Also, if you could let me know if you like the texting, or if you find it REALLY annoying, that'd be a massive help <3 I find texting a useful story-telling tool but I totally get if you find it annoying.
> 
> \+ Bill + Stan + Beverley will actually be in the next chapter as actual characters and not people Eddie texts!! Exciting times ahead. 
> 
> Thank you for reading as always, my loves <3
> 
>  
> 
> (yes, the first line of this chapter is 100% a Mrs Dalloway reference tee hee)

 

Eddie decided that he’d make the donut holes himself. He toyed with the idea of dragging himself back to _Breaking Bread_ and making them there, but that would involve having to heat up the industrial size ovens, and then clean them afterwards, something Eddie was just... not willing to do. Instead, he trundled down the road to the corner store to buy the ingredients, and set about making them in his normal-sized oven. _Breaking Bread_ normally deep-fried their donut holes, which is probably what made them so delicious – all that sweet, sweet saturated fat. However, a ball of sugar coated saturated fat is probably not the best thing to feed to someone with a compromised immune system. Eddie baked the donut holes, and they looked pretty good. Almost as good as they normally looked. He hoped that Richie wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.

 

Eddie’s kitchen was much _much_ smaller than the kitchen at the bakery. To be honest, Eddie’s kitchen wasn’t really a kitchen, more an oven, fridge and small counter-top lined up along one wall of his living room. He didn’t mind though. Eddie didn’t cook much, spending a whole day dealing with food and slaving over hot ovens as part of your job does that to you, he guessed. He lived off a diet of various different salads ( _doesn’t need cooking_ ) and the occasional packet of ramen noodles ( _is boiling and pouring hot water considered cooking?)_ when he was at home, but when his body craved more substance than leaves could provide he’d hot foot it down to Bill’s. Bill was a _fantastic_ cook – Stan was a very lucky man. Today, though, Eddie found himself using his own oven for the first time in four days. For Richie, it was worth it.

  

* * *

 

Eddie’s alarm shouted in his ear, a deafening, tinny shriek. He very briefly toyed with the idea of throwing it out of the window, and snuggling back down into the cave of blankety softness. The temptation quickly vanished when he realised that the reason he was getting up at 4:30am (he suppressed a groan at the red numbers blinking on the screen) was because he had a date with a very poorly Richie. Well, it wasn’t a _date._ Eddie was just taking him treats and medicines. That wasn’t a date, right? Just… good customer service?

 

Eddie managed to haul his protesting limbs from his bed, and began getting ready. He wore his normal bakery clothes – white cotton slim fit pants, white t-shirt, red converse. He considered dressing up a bit more, maybe wearing the black jeans he kept at the back of his wardrobe that made his ass look like it was sculpted from marble, but he decided against it. He’d have to hot foot it straight to the bakery after leaving Richie’s ( _whatever time that turned out to be)_ and he knew he’d regret wearing the tight, black denim almost immediately after his shift started ( _yeah, he was totally speaking from experience)._

 

**To: Benjamin Button:**

ben, i fear i will be late this morn

 

**From: Benjamin Button:**

eddie it is quarter to five in the fucking morning

 

**To: Benjamin Button:**

i know, but i have unavoidable duties to which i must attend

 

**From: Benjamin Button:**

why are you being weird whats wrong

 

**To: Benjamin Button:**

Uh

 

**To: Benjamin Button:**

im taking stuff to richies house bc hes ill and never let it be said eddie K doesn’t deliver good customer service

 

**From: Benjamin Button:**

That’s not the ONLY thing you’ll be delivering ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;)

 

**To: Benjamin Button:**

Stfu

 

**To: Benjamin Button:**

I’ll be in no later than 8 tHANKS X X X X X X

 

**From: Benjamin Button:**

Have fun be safe use protection x

 

Eddie put his phone back in his pocket, and picked up the two Tupperware containers sitting on the coffee table. One was full of oven-baked donut holes, the other full of fresh fruit tarts that Eddie had left over in his fridge – an experiment he’d cooked up at the bakery. They were delicious, and Eddie figured that they could be considered _basically, nearly_ healthy because they were full of fresh fruit. He’d also practically emptied his frankly impressive medicine cabinet, packing three different kinds of flu medication, some disgusting-but-effective cough medicine, two different flavour throat sweets, and a cold pack. Eddie took one more anxious scan of his apartment, before walking out and locking the door.

 

He’d left at five am, which meant he’d arrive at Richie’s a little after quarter past. This gave him around fifteen minutes to have a panic attack before he’d have to knock on the door. The New Jersey streets were serene and quiet, a rolling mist swirling around his feet as he walked. He was listening to The Smith’s, Morrissey’s voice crooning softly in his ear

 

‘ _and now I know how Joan of Arc felt, as the flames rose to her roman nose, and her walk-man started to melt’_

Three songs later, and Eddie arrived at a row of small houses, each looking like they’d been drawn by a child, white picket fence and all. This was absolutely _not_ the kind of place Eddie had expected. Richie, with his baggy cardigans, messy hair and ridiculous beanies lived in a two up two down nursery rhyme house. Eddie made a mental note to tease him about it. As predicted, Eddie’s watch read ‘5:17am’. He was 13 minutes early. He could feel his heart hammering away in his ribcage, the familiar _thump thump thump_ of insecurity. The house was in total darkness, apart from a small, yellowish glow coming from the bottom left window. It looked like someone had lit a candle.

 

  **To: Big Bill:**

Bill I know its early but im outside richies house and I feel like im going to shit my actual stomach out of my actual ass

  
the response came almost immediately.

 

**From: Big Bill:**

omfg W H A T dfghjmk,l.kmjhgf

 

**From: Big Bill:**

Breathe eddie you’re fine everything will be fine it’ll just be like you’re in the shop, but… you’ll be in his house omfg this is so exciting

 

Eddie leant against the door, trying to count his breaths.

 

_in, two, three, four, five_

_out, two, three, four –_

The door suddenly swung open. Eddie fell forward, an embarrassing squeak forcing its way out of his mouth. Before he could blink, he found himself on the floor, limbs tangled with limbs that definitely did not belong to him.

 

‘I can’t believe you actually came!’ Richie all but shrieked in his ear. Eddie looked down from where he was sprawled unceremoniously on top of Richie. Richie looked up at him, nose bright red and eyes puffy and swollen, but sparkling with delight. He looked beautiful. Eddie could feel Richie’s hands perched feather-light on his sides, fingertips pressing into his sides with an almost imperceptible pressure. Eddie wanted to stay here forever. Only he couldn’t.

 

‘oh my GOD Richie I am so sorry, are you okay? Did I hit your head? Here, let me –‘ Eddie quickly slid off Richie’s torso, and crouched next to him. Richie gave no indication he planned on moving, instead raising his hand to Eddie’s face, placing it on his cheek. Eddie could feel himself lean into the touch automatically. Richie was looking at him with an almost glazed expression, a ridiculous smile playing on his lips.

 

‘My own personal nurse. Nurse Eds Spaghetti, at _my_ service’

 

Eddie scoffed, brushing Richie’s hand from his cheek, but instead of letting it fall back to the floor, grabbed it in his own hands.

 

‘Help me help you up, dumbass. You’re about fifteen times taller than me, I can’t fireman’s lift you by myself’

 

Richie just laughed, a croaky, hoarse laugh that descended into a violent coughing fit. Eddie helped him sit up, and sat rubbing his back as he hacked and spluttered.

 

‘Sorry, Eds, I think I definitely have the bubonic plague. It’s all Mike’s fault, he caught it from Ayla who caught it from that guy she met at her book club and now _I_ have it’ Richie babbled. Eddie didn’t know who Mike was, or who Ayla was, or who the guy Ayla met at her book club was, so he just nodded and made some sympathetic, non-committal noises. When Richie had finished coughing, he let Eddie haul him up. Eddie led Richie out of the hall way, blindly guessing that the door to his left would lead them into the sitting room. It did. The small room was bathed in a warm, orange light, coming from a large candle balanced on a book shelf in the corner of the room. Eddie gently pulled Richie towards the large, squishy-looking couch. There were blankets and cushions already on the couch, it looked as if someone had been sleeping there in the moments before they both entered the room.

 

‘Were you sleeping down here?’ Eddie asked, as Richie flopped down onto the couch, wrapping himself in the various blankets.

 

‘I was’, Richie nodded, yawning, ‘I didn’t want to sleep upstairs in case I missed you or I didn’t hear my phone or you knocking on the door or something. At least I knew I’d hear the door if I slept in here’

 

Eddie’s heart twitched.

 

‘Oh Richie’  he breathed. Richie just looked at him pathetically, and made grabby hands at the bag on Eddie’s back.

 

‘I believe a certain cutie came equipped with fried chocolatey treats for the poor invalid?’

 

Eddie shucked the backpack, grabbing the Tupperwear boxes. He opened them, and passed a donut hole to Richie, who shoved the whole thing in his mouth, like he always did. Eddie’s heart twitched again at the familiar sight.

 

‘g’me ‘nother’ Richie mumbled through his mouthful, smacking his lips happily. Eddie just shook his head.

 

‘no, you can’t have too many of these, you need to be eating wholefoods’ he scolded, but he was already reaching for another doughy treat. Eddie knelt down next to the couch, placing a hesitant hand on Richie’s bright red forehead. He hissed, sympathetically.

 

‘Jesus, Rich, you’re so hot’

 

Richie leered at him, ‘I’m hot for you, baby’

 

Eddie smacked him playfully on his arm.

 

‘Not what I meant, asshole. Your forehead is boiling hot’, he looked pointedly at Richie, who was bundled in three blankets, shivering ‘and you’re cold? Jesus Christ – hang on’. Eddie began searching through his open backpack, before pulling out the cold pack and a bottle of flu medication. He opened the cold pack, and snapped it in half, activating the cooling gel.

 

‘This will be really, really cold, but it’ll make you feel loads better, okay?’ Eddie cautioned, before placing the blue cold pack on Richie’s forehead. Richie flinched at the cold, before a blissful expression spread slowly across his face. Eddie laughed, indulgently. Trying to get Richie to take some of the flu medication was far less easy.

 

‘Eddie that stuff is DIGUSTING, I will VOMIT if you make me take that’ Richie pouted, crossing his arms. He was frowning in a way that Eddie thought made him look like an angry puppy. Not at all threatening, just fifty shades of adorable.

 

‘ _Richie’_ is all Eddie had to say, eyebrow quirked and jaw set, before Richie had grabbed the small glass beaker, and downed the murky green liquid in one go, his eyes never leaving Eddie’s.

 

‘There, now what do I get in reward for being _such a good boy?’_ Richie simpered, batting his eyelashes coquettishly at Eddie. Eddie just barked out a laugh.

 

‘Shift over, I want to watch the morning news’

 

* * *

 

 

At half past seven, Eddie began to get twitchy. He’d told Ben he would be at work no later than eight, which was rapidly approaching. He looked down at his lap, where a snoring Richie lay. He was snuffling slightly, trying to breathe through his swollen sinuses. Eddie carded his fingers through Richie’s slightly sweaty hair. He wanted nothing more than to stay here and look after Richie, but he knew he couldn’t abandon Ben. Inch by inch, Eddie shifted his body so that Richie was lying flush against the sofa, and not his lap. He stood up, legs numb from having Richie lying on them for nearly an hour. Richie shifted a bit in his sleep, an irritated moan escaping his lips. Eddie froze. Richie just smacked his lips a bit, and fell still once more.

 

Eddie packed up his backpack, but left the two Tupperware containers on the coffee table, along with all of the medication he had brought with him. He also ripped a piece of paper out of the notebook he carried with him, and wrote a note before he slipped out of the door, the soft click of the door lock announcing his exit.

 

**Richie,**

**I had to leave to go to work** **L Please take the green liquid flu medication every four hours. DO IT OR YOU WONT GET BETTER. You can also take the throat sweets every three hours if you feel the need.**

**Please feel better soon.**

**I miss you coming to see me at work.**

**Nurse K x**

 

 

* * *

 

When Eddie got to work, at 8:04am, Ben was in the middle of serving the older woman who came in every other day to buy three loaves of whole-wheat bread. Eddie managed to slip into the kitchen before Ben had finished, in the hope of avoiding the inquisition that he knew was coming.

 

‘So’

 

Eddie sighed.

 

‘Yes, Ben?’

 

‘Are you going to make me beg? Because I will, I’m not above begging’

 

Eddie sighed again.

 

‘Nothing happened, Ben. I went to his house, he ate the donut holes, we watched the news, he fell asleep in my lap, I left when he was still asleep. He is probably still asleep. I made him take lots of flu medication’ Eddie rattled off, holding up a different finger to denote each thing that happened.

 

Ben smiled knowingly. ‘Ah yes, that does sound pretty romantic, Eds. You flew to his rescue, baring sweet treats and stroked his head whilst he slept in your lap? That’s very domestic, Eds, that’s the kinda shit Bev and I do’

 

‘I didn’t say anything about stroking his hair’, Eddie bit back, but with no venom to his words.

 

‘but did you?’

 

‘…’

 

‘HA!’ Ben replied to the pause, victorious.

 

Eddie stuck his tongue out. He was being juvenile but he didn’t care. Ben deserved it.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The rest of the day passed pretty uneventfully. Eddie forgave Ben, and they resumed their friendly banter. Ben didn’t mention Richie again, but Eddie caught him texting in the walk-in fridge once, thumbs flying furiously over the screen, a dopy grin on his face. Eddie didn’t even have time to blink before his phone was buzzing in his pocket.

 

**From: Red:**

OMFG ED

 

Eddie didn’t even bother reading the other texts that came through in quick succession.

 

**To: Red:**

Bev, I’ll tell you about it on Sunday I promise <3

 

**From: Red:**

That’s mama’s good boy x

 

Eddie returned to the front of the shop just in time for the door-bell to signal that another customer had come into the shop. Upon seeing who had just walked into the shop, Eddie immediately threw himself to the floor, crawling under the counter.

 

 ‘Uh – Hello? Is anyone here?’

 

Eddie’s blood turned to ice at the sound of that very, very familiar voice.

 

‘PSST – Ben? Ben?’ Eddie whisper-hissed, trying to catch Ben’s attention. Ben, apparently, was still in the walk-in, probably still texting Bev.

 

**To: Benjamin Button:**

Jasper is here SO-fucking-S

 

Almost immediately, Eddie heard the sound of Ben’s work boots pounding the linoleum. His heart slowed slightly at the sound.

 

‘Jasper, you can’t keep doing this. You can’t just turn up here, it isn’t fair’

 

‘Well hello to you to, Ben, it’s been a while’

 

Eddie couldn’t see Jasper, but he didn’t need to. He knew that Jasper was probably making that stupid jeer-y expression, patronising and cold. He looked up at Ben, who was stood with his arms folded protectively across his chest, his jaw set. His lips were stretched across his face in a thin line, challenging.

 

‘I only wanted one of those pastries, Benny, you know – the ones Eddie used to bring home. Pistachio and something something. This is a _business,_ you know. You can’t turn away _paying customers’_ Jasper replied, nonchalantly. ‘I know you’re under the counter, Eddie. _Steady old Eddie_. You haven’t changed a bit, darling’

 

‘Do not fucking CALL ME THAT’ Eddie spat, without realising. He clamped a hand over his mouth, before rolling his eyes and raising slowly to his feet. His legs were covered in flour, but he resisted the urge to wipe it off.

 

‘There’s my little spitfire’ Jasper crooned, raising his hand, as if he was about to reach over the counter and stroke Eddie’s arm. Eddie felt his body shift unconsciously closer towards Ben. Jasper dropped his hand, obviously thinking better of it.

 

‘Fine, fine, forget the fucking pastry’.

 

Jasper looked almost exactly the same as the day he had when he’d broken up with Eddie. He was broad, tall and – much to Eddie’s chagrin – devastatingly handsome in a very conventional way. Eddie hated himself for _still_ feeling the magnetism that drew him to Jasper in the first place. He tried to squash the feeling down, right down into the very recesses of his soul. Eddie didn’t say anything to him, and neither did Ben. They both just stared at him. Well, Ben stared at him, Eddie stared at his feet.

 

‘See you around, honey’

 

Eddie flinched at the pet name. It left a nasty, familiar taste on his tongue. Metallic.

 

Jasper span on his heels, and with a final wink sent over his shoulder, directly at Eddie, he left.

 

Eddie released a long, wheezy breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding.

 

‘Are you okay?’ came Ben’s tentative voice, accompanied by a sympathetic smile. Eddie continued to stare at the floor, counting his breaths.

 

_In, two, three, four, five_

_Out, two, three, four five_

‘He is such an arsehole, Eddie. Don’t let him do this to you, don’t let him make you feel like this, he has no right to make you feel like this, don’t let him’ Ben continued, and began rubbing small, soothing circles on the small of Eddie’s back. Comforting, protective. _I’m here for you,_ circles. _I won’t let him to anything to you every again,_ circles. Eddie knew these circles well.

 

‘It’s so weird spending 4 years of your life with someone and then being absolutely fucking terrified at the sight of them’ is all Eddie could say.

 

‘I know, my love’ Ben replied, pulling Eddie into a hug, ‘I know’.

 

 

* * *

 

Their routine was resumed the next morning. Eddie, however, wasn’t best pleased to see Richie, nose still red and eyes still puffy, stumble through the door.

 

‘What the hell are you doing here’ Eddie asked, arms crossed across his chest, hip jutting out. He felt a bit like an angry teacher. ‘You’re still poorly, Rich, you look like shit’

 

‘Nice to see you too, Nurse Eds’ Richie smiled weakly, making grabby hands at the plate of chocolate donut holes on the counter. Eddie rolled his eyes, and began to reach towards the plate before Richie interrupted him.

 

‘No, no, not the damn donuts, you, I want you, c’mere’  

 

Eddie was sure he felt his heart stop. _I want you._

Eddie stepped out from behind the counter, hesitantly. Richie barrelled towards him, all but scooping Eddie up in his arms. Eddie stood still for all of three seconds, before he brought his hands up to encircle Richie’s neck.  _I want you._

 

‘I know we haven’t hugged yet, but I slept on your lap yesterday so I thought we’d broken the touching barrier. Thank you so much for yesterday, I was so annoyed I was asleep when you left’ Richie whispered in Eddie’s ear, hot breath tickling the shell of his ear. Intimate. ‘I missed you’.  _I want you._

 

‘how much of that flu medication have you taken you lunatic’ Eddie replied. He could feel the familiar tingles of a blush rising on his cheeks. He didn’t care, burying his face in Richie’s shoulder.

 

‘I have no idea. Some. A bit. I do feel a bit drunk. I missed you, though. My missyness is what’s making me feel the most drunk’ Richie slurred, before letting Eddie go and beaming at him.

 

Eddie swotted at his arm, before turning away, bashful. ‘You’re such a sap, Richie Tozier. A disgusting sap. Now go home, I don’t want to get your lurgy, and nor do any of my customers’

 

‘I’m only going home if you promise to go for coffee with me later’ Richie challenged.

 

‘I’m not going for coffee with you today, you’re too sick. My next day off is Sunday, in two days’ time. Are you free then?’ Eddie replied, suddenly feeling incredible vulnerable. He knew this probably wasn’t a date, or anything. They were just friends. To be honest, Eddie wasn’t even sure they were even friends yet. He was just the guy who made Richie’s favourite donuts. Eddie wasn’t sure what the technical term was for when customers and shop workers went for coffee.

 

‘It’s a date, spaghetti man. Hang on –‘ Richie pulled a pen out of his pocket. ‘Have you got any paper?’

 

Eddie passed him a pile of napkins. Richie grabbed the top one, and wrote a string of numbers on it in chicken-scratch.  

 

‘Call me’ Richie replied in what Eddie assumed was his best white-girl voice. Eddie couldn’t help himself but laugh at the ridiculous man in front of him, wrapped in a dirty hoodie, with messy hair and a bright red nose. Eddie was pretty sure he fell in love right there.

 

Once Richie had left, after Eddie had forced him to promise to go straight home and rest, the rest of the day flew by in a blur of customers, bread, muffins and oven cleaner.

 

**To: Big Bill:**

so guess what

 

**From: Big Bill:**

IS THIS RICHIE RELATED

**To: Big Bill:**

omfg I'm going for coffee w/ Richie on Sunday b4 I come to yours so I’ll either arrive like :D :D :D :D or heartbroken so

 

**From: Big Bill:**

OMFG I AM SO EXCITED

 

**To: Big Bill:**

oh yeah I also saw jasper today and had to hide under the counter so theres that

 

**From: Big Bill:**

Oh fuck. Eddie im so sorry he did that to you are you okay?

 

**To: Big Bill:**

Yeah im fine it was just a mASSIVE shock you know I haven’t seen him since

 

**From: Big Bill:**

Yeah I know… jesus Im still so sorry. Are you going to tell Richie about him?

 

Eddie shuddered at the thought, angrily tapping out his reply.

 

**To: Big Bill:**

ABSOLUTELY FUCKING NOT

 

**From: Big Bill:**

hmmmm I really think you should, you know. If you want this to go somewhere this is something he should probably definitely know about

 

**To: Big Bill:**

Bill, shut up we don’t know what this is going to be…. Richie might not even be the relationship kind of person

 

**From: Big Bill:**

Eddie, just be careful

 

**To: Big Bill:**

Bill, I always am

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	4. From: Richie [black heart emoji]: i cant stop thinking about you eds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie and Richie go for coffee, Eddie makes a friend, and Eddie eats Fajitas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there is drug use in this chapter (weed), just FYI.

On Sunday, Eddie finds himself waking up at 6am regardless of the fact he isn’t due in work today. He lies in his bed, wondering whether he’s awake this early because his body clock in wired just so, or whether its anything to do with the mass of butterflies currently swirling in his stomach. He hadn’t managed to fall asleep before midnight last night, because he was texting Richie. They’d shot the shit mostly, talking about anything and everything. There had been a few texts though that made Eddie momentarily forget to breathe. Texts along the lines of ‘ _I can’t wait to see you’_ , or ‘ _seeing you in the mornings makes my day. Every day’._ Eddie had screenshotted those texts, and saved them to a secret folder on his phone.

 

Realising that he probably wasn’t going to be able to fall asleep again, and after scrolling back through the conversation he’d had with Richie last night a total of three times, Eddie decided that he might as well just get out of bed and actually start getting ready. He pottered about his apartment a bit, watering the plants on the window sills, and sticking two slices of bread in the toaster – which he promptly forgot about. The best thing about his apartment, besides the fact it was _his his his all his no one’s but his,_ was the balcony. Eddie had chosen this place almost exclusively _because_ of the balcony. The balcony was big enough for Eddie to grow plants on, and have two folding garden chairs, but that was about it. Eddie loved his outside space. He pushed the sliding door open, closing it behind him. He sat on one of the chairs, and started fishing for the weed in his pocket, fingers deftly scrunching and rolling until he had a decent sized blunt. He’s started smoking weed two years ago. He smoked because his therapist told him it’d be a good way to keep his anxieties in check, as Eddie was adamant he wasn’t going to take any chemical medication any more. He’d sort of hated it, at first, hated the cloying sweet taste and the way it made his lungs burn. He’d quickly gotten used to it though. He still didn’t smoke much, maybe one or two joints a week. Mostly though, he smokes it because Jasper had hated it.

 

Eddie sat, watching the sun rise – kissing the New Jersey skyline. He inhales, taking the sticky-sweet smoke into his lungs, and holds his breath. He almost always thinks about Jasper when he smokes. He thinks about Jasper’s scratchy voice, _are you seriously still smoking that shit, Eddie._ He thinks about how Jasper would look at him after he’d smoke, disgust mixed with a lingering resentment. Jasper hated that Eddie smoked, and that just made Eddie want to do it more and more and more until he bled smoke.

 

Eddie closed his eyes, and listened to the wind

 

* * *

 

 

He wasn’t meeting Richie until 1. It was only half past eight, and Eddie hated himself for already being ready. He snorted at the irony of someone as neurotic as him being a frequent smoker. It had taken him about an hour to decide on what to wear. He’d gotten changed six times, first deciding that the t-shirt he’d chosen was too pink, then the jeans were too tight, then _those_ jeans were too loose, then that sweater didn’t look right with those pants. He’d finally settled on the t-shirt he had on first, a pair of black skinny jeans, and a grey cardigan. He rattled around the apartment for another two hours, wasting time watching the news, reading a magazine he’d accidentally picked up on the subway last week, and eating the left over pizza in his fridge. Finally, when he could no longer stand the swirling nerves in his stomach, he decided that he’d just leave. Sure, he’d get to the café two hours before Richie was scheduled to arrive, but he couldn’t bear to stare at the four walls of his living room any longer.

 

The coffee shop Richie had suggested they meet at was a tiny little establishment in a suburb of New Jersey Eddie had never been to before. It was a quaint little place, with an awning and a patio garden. Eddie decided he loved the place as soon as he’d seen it. He ordered and paid for his large Americano ( _no milk please, thank you!)_ and balanced it on a saucer, before taking it through the sliding French doors and into the patio garden. The patio garden was bathed in sunlight, silvery threads of light bouncing from the top of the silvery tables. He sat on one of the  rickety old tables, almost spilling his coffee all over his lap. Steadying the cup, he pulled his book out of his bag and began to read.

 

* * *

 

 

He’d been reading for about forty-five minutes when he heard someone struggling to open the French doors leading from the shop to the patio garden. Eddie looked up, and saw an older woman with a shock of bright silver hair struggling to open the doors. Her hands skated over the glass, searching. That’s when Eddie noticed the dog at her feet, patiently waiting, wearing a neon green harness, _‘please do not distract me, I’m working’._ Eddie shot to his feet, marching over to the doors, before sliding them open slowly.

 

‘Can I help you? Are you okay? Do you need me to show you to a table?’ he asked. He wasn’t sure what the correct protocol was for offering help to someone who was blind. He didn’t want to insinuate she was helpless, or incapable, but he also didn’t want to leave her stranded, fruitlessly searching for an empty table. Luckily, the woman smiled, placing her hand on Eddie’s outstretched arm.

 

‘Well aren’t you just a darling’ she smiled, ‘do please lead the way!’

 

Eddie walked carefully towards the empty table next to his own, the dog following patiently behind. Once he was sure that the woman was settled at her table, Eddie started to return to his own abandoned coffee.

 

‘And where do you think you’re going, young man?’ the woman announced, with a wicked grin on her face.

 

‘Uh – to get my coffee and then come straight back here, of course’ Eddie replied, returning her smile. He grabbed his discarded coffee, which was lukewarm at best at this point, and returned to the table.

 

The woman’s name was Adeline, it turns out, and she was a New Jersey native. She was kind, with a wicked sense of humour, and Eddie decided quickly that she was one of the most fascinating people he’d ever met. She regaled him with stories from her youth,  stories about stealing candy from corner shops, stories about visiting Vietnam when she was sixteen – alone and unafraid. Stories about wild parties. Stories about her first love, her third husband, and her daughter who worked in Jamaica as a nurse. Eddie sat there, head resting in his palm, and just listened. He listened to her, barely interjecting, maybe with an occasional ‘ _mm-hmm’_ or ‘ _oh my god!’._ He learnt that she was a cardiac surgeon for most of her working life.

 

…’Yes I worked at Saint Bart’s, it’s in Belleview, but obviously, I couldn’t keep sticking scalpels in people’s hearts when I couldn’t see the hearts anymore of course, so I had to give it up two years ago. I do miss it though, there’s something uniquely powerful about holding someone’s literal heart in your hands’ Adeline continued, sipping on her coffee. Her dog, who Eddie learnt was called Bear, basked in the sun. Eddie hesitates, not wanting to intrude and ask how she went blind, but the woman can tell he’s desperate to ask.

 

She answered the question he hadn’t asked easily.

 

‘I went blind at 55. Congenital eye problem that just got worse and worse as I aged. I knew I’d go blind eventually, so I never really had the chance to mourn the day that I finally couldn’t see how many fingers my husband was holding in front of my face’

 

‘How are you not always terrified?’ Eddie blurts, without thinking. He slaps a hand in front of his mouth, inwardly cursing himself.

 

‘How do you mean, pet?’ Adeline replies softly.

 

‘How do you manage to walk around, without being constantly scared someone’s going to do something to you?  Or you’re going to fall?’

 

Adeline laughs, bright and pitchy, like a bell.

 

‘My dear, I never worried about that when I could see, why would now be any different? And besides, I have bear’, She pats the dog, who has moved so he is sat next to her with his face in her lap. ‘He’s an old boy but he’s never let me down’

 

Before he could respond, Eddie felt a hand on his shoulder, a gentle pressure. Eddie turned sharply, shocked, but was met with the sight of Richie’s smiling face.

 

‘Hey, Eds, whose your friend?’

 

Eddie checked the time on his phone.

 

‘Jesus, how is it 1 already?!’ he turned back to Richie, smiling. ‘Richie, this is Adeline, I met her today’

 

 Adeline didn’t say anything, just smiled knowingly, before grabbing Bear’s harness, and standing up. Eddie sprung to his feet, ready to offer his arm.

 

‘Eddie, be a dear and open the door for me, it seems someone else requires your attention’

 

Eddie could feel a fierce blush creeping slowly across his face. Adeline patted his cheek, as if she knew. Richie smirked at them both, before sitting in the seat Eddie had vacated.

 

‘I like this broad, Eds’

 

Eddie helped Adeline to the door, before coming back and sitting opposite Richie, noticing that he had also bought himself a large Americano.

 

‘we take our coffee the same way’ he mused aloud, before rolling his eyes at himself. _Great observation there, captain ridiculous._ Richie didn’t notice, just smiled dopilyat Eddie.

 

‘Oh yeah! We totally do. We are so similar, Eds Spageds, two peas in a practically perfect pod’, Richie batted his eyelashes, flirtatiously.

 

Eddie snorted at him, ‘Oh my god'

 

‘So, do you make a habit of picking up old blind ladies at coffee shops? Should I be keeping you on a tighter leash, sugar?’, Richie laughed, winking at the flustered Eddie.

 

‘She’s not that old, asshole. She’s only 57, and no, I helped her because I noticed the dog and the whole… blind thing, and then I just got talking to her. She has had an absolutely _insane_ life, you couldn’t even imagine, Rich’

 

Richie just sort of stared at him.

 

 ‘It’s so nice you helped her, Eddie’

 

 ‘Well, yeah’, he paused, confused. ‘She’s blind, Richie, if I didn’t help her I’d be a bit of a dick’

 

‘Did anyone else get up to help her?’

 

‘Well, no … but –‘

 

‘My point exactly’ Richie interrupted, triumphantly. He had this soft, intimate expression on his face. Eddie blushed under the intensity of his gaze.

 

* * *

 

 

After this, they shot the shit for almost two hours. Eddie told Richie about the first shifts he had at _Breaking Bad,_ the awful ones that involved Eddie incinerating basically every loaf he baked, and when he’d nearly fainted trying to make blue cheese wraps. He told Richie about Ben, and how they’d became almost instant best friends. He told Richie about Bill and how Bill met Stan and about how sarcastic and hilarious Stan was and how much Richie would probably love him. Richie didn’t say much, just looked at Eddie with the same soft, intimate look on his face.

 

When Richie did finally speak, he asked Eddie about why he’d decided to become a baker. Eddie had told him that he’d been really good at school, averaged a 4.0 with no real difficulty, and had really enjoyed learning – hell, he still really enjoyed learning. This was, of course, a perfectly innocent question that had lead entirely organically from their conversation but it still made Eddie’s hackles rise and his voice get trapped in his throat, feeling his face shifting into something resembling reluctance.

 

Richie’s eyes grew wide, raising his hands in front of his body, defensively

 

‘I didn’t mean – you don’t have to tell me, I think it’s _super_ cool and I mean, it’s how I met you so it must be fate that you’re a baker right?’

 

Eddie breathes out the breath he’d been holding, in one long, slow exhale, a thin stream of air escaping between his lips.

 

‘oh, no, Rich, you’re fine it’s just – my mother asks me that same question every time I see her – _multiple_ times in fact – and it’s just … I’m sick of justifying myself, you know? Yeah okay, I left high school with a 4.0 and if I wanted to, I probably COULD have become a lawyer or something but… I just didn’t want to. I don’t want to do any of that corporate bullshit, I just… I’m happy with my dough. I’m happy where I am.’

 

Eddie delivered most of that speech to his shoes, digging his hands into the flesh on his thighs. He really didn’t want to bring the whole mother stuff up so early.

 

Richie blinked at him. Slowly, deliberately.

 

‘Do you not get on with your mother, Eddie?’

 

Eddie just snorts, before shaking his head. ‘That’s a fucking understatement. My mother, she – she’s a sick woman. My childhood consisted of her force feeding me medication for this or that disease or illness or whatever, which you’d think – cool, protective mother – but I didn’t actually _HAVE_ any of those diseases and the pills were just sugar ones, y’know, placebos. She’d lied to me until I was fifteen, when I found out, and I freaked out on her big time. So, yeah you could say we’ve got a pretty _testy_ relationship.’

 

Richie nods, his gaze curious, urging Eddie on.

 

‘I don’t take any of that shit any more, but I only stopped using the dummy inhaler about a year ago’ _that’s a lie, he thinks. You were using that inhaler a lot 3 months ago, he thinks._ ‘I do smoke weed though’

 

Eddie watched Richie’s jaw fall open, comically.

 

‘WHAT!’

 

Eddie just laughed, embarrassed.

 

‘You so do NOT look like the stoner type, Eds, what the hell!’ Richie continued, placing his hands on his face in an expression of faux horror.

 

Eddie laughed too. ‘I know, I know! I have a therapist who prescribes it. It’s proper stuff, medicinal. It helps with my anxiety’

 

Richie shifts in his seat, excitedly, drumming on the surface of the table with his fingers in a tune that Eddie vaguely recognises.

 

‘We should totally smoke up together’, Richie babbled, ‘we should absolutely totally get high together’

 

‘I only really smoke when I’m nervous, Richie, I don’t do it like… recreationally or whatever’

 

Richie smiles knowingly.

 

‘Be honest with me spaghetti, did you smoke before you came today?’, he winks.  Eddie wants to collapse into himself.

 

‘no comment’

 

Richie straight up _beams_ at him.

 

‘Oh _babe_ , I was nervous too’ he replies, still grinning wolfishly.

 

Eddie felt his face light-up like the world’s most pathetic Christmas tree when Richie said the word ‘babe’. He slapped Richie’s hand that was resting on the top of the table playfully, Richie grabs it before he can pull away, so they’re holding hands loosely. Richie rubbed a finger up and down the back of Eddie’s hand, leaving a trail of burning skin in its wake. Eddie couldn’t breathe. Richie, still staring at Eddie, changed his expression from wolfish grin to pensive in seconds. Eddie still couldn’t breathe.

 

‘you’re really doing it for _you_ aren’t you’, he mumbles.

 

Eddie blinked at the change in topic but, knowing what Richie meant, replied with a shrugged, ‘Yeah, yeah I am. I’m sick of living for other people’

 

The smile sort of slipped from Richie’s face, then, clinging to his mouth but falling from his eyes.

 

 ‘Yeah, I know a thing or two about living for other people’

 

Eddie wanted to push, wants to prod for more, but the look on Richie’s face stops him from doing so. Then, Richie’s phone, sitting on the table, started bleeping insistently. Eddie glanced at the screen, but couldn’t make out the name lit up at the top. Richie looks down at the phone, buzzing next to his hand clasped in Eddies, and blanched.

 

‘Sorry, Spaghetti, I’ve gotta’ take this, I’m just gonna–‘ Richie gestured towards the French doors, before grabbing his phone and slipping away, through the coffee shop. Eddie watched him walk, past the coffee bar, and out the front door. Eddie stared after him, feeling a mixture of confusion and unease. He found it difficult to rationalise why Richie had to leave, why he couldn’t just answer his phone in front of Eddie, but he decides he doesn’t want to feel weird or needy, so he pushes that feeling right back down. Three minutes passed before Richie came back, an expression on his face that Eddie couldn’t name. A combination of regret and unease, guilt and embarrassment. Eddie didn’t like it.

 

‘I’m so sorry Eddie but I have to go, I’ve gotta go see a man about a dog’ he paused, waving his hands, ‘… a woman about a porcupine type stuff. I don’t have time to walk you home but tell me you’ll see me again?’

 

Eddie felt his face fall.

 

‘Oh, okay, I guess – No, no problem. You know where I am’

 

Richie made a frustrated little noise before continuing, ‘No, like … Can we do this again? Can I take you to dinner? I need to hear more of your spaghetti stories’

 

‘Sure, Rich. I’d like that – when are you free?’

 

Eddie watched Richie. He was shifting from foot to foot, clearly agitated, tapping his phone against his arm.

 

‘I don’t know, Eds, I’m a very busy man. People to do, places to see, I’ll text you? Let you know? No longer than a week, my love’

 

Eddie smiled, but he could feel it straining on his face. ‘Of course, just text me’

 

‘Fab!’ Richie pumped his fist in the air, eliciting a short bark of laughter from Eddie, ‘Okay, Sugar, I really have gotta go now’

 

Richie bent down, hovering near Eddie’s face. Their noses were almost brushing. Eddie couldn’t breathe.

 

‘I’ll text you later’, Richie said before pressing a tentative, chaste kiss to Eddie’s mouth. Eddie couldn’t breathe. He closed his eyes, but when he’d opened them again, Richie had gone. Eddie watched him walk back through the coffee shop, and out of the door for the second time.

 

* * *

 

 

 

When Eddie arrived at Bill’s later that evening he was the last one to get there. Stan let him in, and just stared at Eddie in the all-knowing Stan kind of way. It always made Eddie feel like Stan’s eyes could bore straight into his soul. Eddie found Bill in the kitchen, throwing chopped vegetables into a pan.

 

‘Hey, babe!’

 

‘Hey, Bill, something smells good!’

 

‘Thanks, it’s my secret fajita spice recipe’ Bill replied happily, ‘Stan says it smells like burning but he’s a culinary peasant’

 

Stan scoffed from his seat at the dining table. Ben and Bev were there, too. Bev was sat on Ben’s lap, playing with his hair, and Ben was flicking absently through some magazine. Eddie can see Angelina Jolie on the cover. It’s almost definitely Stan’s magazine. Eddie can feel his heart swell. He takes a seat next to Stan, who throws Eddie a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it kind of smile. The best kind of Stan smile, unabashed, unflinching. Eddie was _home._

 

* * *

 

 

After they’d eaten, they stayed sat at the table, sharing three bottles of cheap plonk. Bev had moved back to Ben’s lap, but threw her legs up onto Eddie’s lap. He scratched at her ankle, absently. They sat in comfortable silence, until

 

‘So, did you fuck him in the toilet at the café or in the bush?’

 

Eddie choked on his wine, and spat it out of his mouth in the way that usually only happens in cartoons. Beverly threw her head back and howled with laughter.

 

‘What the FUCK, Stanley?’ Eddie pouted, enraged.

 

‘He’s just teasing you, Eddie, you ain’t no thot’ Bill assured, in a way that Eddie knew he hoped was comforting. Eddie was not comforted by it.

 

‘Your boyfriend is an ASSHOLE, William. An ASSHOLE’

 

‘Well, if you didn’t have sex with him in a bush, what DID you two get up to?’ Bev prompted, and poked Eddie’s ribs, making him squeal.

 

‘We just – we just chatted for almost, shit almost three hours! It was so easy, he’s a very good listener. I told him about my mother, actually –‘

 

Bill hissed, sympathetically. Ben rubbed his arm.

 

‘No, it was fine, actually’ Eddie assured them, ‘Richie almost looked like he understood? Which is crazy right, because he almost certainly _doesn’t_ understand but… he – I dunno, he got this _look_ on his face? Like how Ben looks at Bev, or how Stan looks at those stupid red birds –‘

 

‘Cardinals, you gnat’ Stan interrupted.

 

‘yeah, yeah whatever’, Eddie flapped his hands, dismissively. ‘He just… He’s just a really cool person. I’m really glad he’s my friend’

 

Everyone looked at him.

 

‘He IS my friend, it just so happens I would MAYBE like him to be more than that but… I’m trying not to get too ahead of myself again’

 

‘He is totally your type though’, Ben snorted, ‘He looks like he hasn’t slept since 1884 and he has all this _hair,_ it’s like… it’s like an absolute birds nest. AND he wears baggy jeans! Like he’s a skater boy from 1980! He’s hot!’ Ben thumped the table, excitedly. Beverly laughed at him, brushing his hair out of his face, before her expression changes.

 

‘So is he like… is he similar to–‘

 

Eddie cuts her off before she can say his name, ‘No. No he is definitely – He’s nothing like him, I promise, they couldn’t be more different.’

 

Bev lightens up then, but she squeezes his shoulder. Eddie knows what that squeeze means.

 

* * *

 

 

Eddie texts Richie almost all evening. They text about Eddie’s friends, and Eddie’s fajitas, and Stan asking if they’d had sex in a bush. Richie sends a series of eggplant emojis and bushes to that text, which makes Eddie laugh so hard he cries.

 

Ben and Bev decided that they want to watch Moulin Rouge, which got Bill all squealy and excited, so he forced Stan to come and watch it with him. Eddie is, of course, more than happy to spend over two hours watching one of the best musicals in the history of cinema, _bite me if you disagree, Stanley, I dare you._ That’s how they all fall asleep, piled on top of each other like exhausted puppies. Eddie fell asleep with his head cradled in Bev’s arms, listening to the soft puffs of her breath and the melancholy music seeping from the TV speakers.  He fell asleep, surrounded by the people he loves the most, Richie’s last text rattling around in his head.

 

 

**From: Richie [black heart emoji]:**

i cant stop thinking about you eds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my loves! here is another chapter. Our boys are making slow progress. Eddie is reserved, and he has reasons. These reasons will be clear!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I'm pretty sure my tenses are all over the place, oops.
> 
> Lemme know the things you loved and the things you hated!
> 
> thank you so much for reading <3


	5. catch him when he falls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie POV. He talks to Ben. He learns some things.

 

 

 

**Richie**

The first time Richie spoke to Ben, the two had hit it off almost instantly. Richie’s boisterous, bombastic personality gelled with Ben’s shyness perfectly, and the two struck up a natural rapport over the cheddar and jalapeño loaves. Richie loved to push Ben _juuust_ beyond the realm of barely-there-flushed cheeks and all the way into inferno red. He always made sure that Eddie knew it was all a game, though. The kind of flirting Richie was doing with Ben was all exaggerated heart clutching and leers, hyperbolic winks and ass slaps. What Richie did with Eddie was different. Careful smiles, subtle winks, a hand on a lower back, lingering looks. Richie was careful, sure. He was careful that Eddie knew he wasn’t some kind of illustrious fuckboy flirt addict. Well, he _hoped_ Eddie knew that he didn’t look at every pretty boy who worked in a bakery who always had flecks of flour on his shirt and an unabashed, painfully open grin on his face in the same way. Just the one that always snuck extra treats into Richie’s order when he thought Richie wasn’t looking.

 

Richie had made sure to text Eddie first thing every morning, and last thing before he fell asleep. If Richie had met Eddie two years ago, he’d pretend to himself that this ritual was for Eddie’s sake – to butter him up, to slide into his bed, to leave in the morning, mouth swollen and legs aching, to delete his number. ‘ _New Phone, who dis?’_ type stuff.

 

But Richie hadn’t met Eddie two years ago.

 

* * *

 

 

**To: Angel:**

good morning light of my life

 

**From: Angel:**

shut up Richie

 

Richie smirked at his phone. They’d been dancing around each other since the coffee date. Since Richie had to high-tail it out of the building, phone buzzing furiously in his pocket, threatening to sting. He hadn’t looked back when he’d left, he couldn’t bring himself to actually look at the bemused expression on Eddie’s face any longer than he physically had to. He’d pressed his lips to Eddie’s, chaste – and he’d hoped, promising – before he’d left. He’d inwardly cursed himself, afterwards. Pounding the pavement, phone stinging his palm.

 

**To: Angel:**

you wound me my love

 

Eddie didn’t reply. Richie knew Eddie was at work, and he knew that he’d be trotting off to the bakery in less than an hour. He had stuff he had to do first, though. He’d stayed at Mike’s last night. He didn’t often stay at Mike’s, because he always felt too guilty. But sometimes. Sometimes, he just couldn’t be at home. Sometimes he couldn’t bear to look at her, and could bear to have her look at him. She was cold. Her hands were always cold when they caressed his cheek, and her expression was always cold when she watched him walk into their house and walk wordlessly up the stairs. So, he stayed at Mike’s. He didn’t stay very often, but just enough to give him the much needed respite. They often got drunk together, Richie throwing back the beer at lightning speeds, throat burning and heart pounding erratically in his chest. Mike just sipped at the same bottle all night, watching. Waiting. Richie always cried when he stayed at Mike’s. Cried about her, about himself. Cried on Mike’s shoulder, strong arms wrapped around him.

 

* * *

 

 

When Richie spoke to Ben for the second time, Ben had told him that Eddie liked him.

 

‘He likes you, you know’ he’d said, strong sugar-covered arms crossed across his chest. Richie briefly considered – for an absurd moment – bending down to lick the sugar off the hair dappled skin. He thought better of it.

 

‘He likes you, but you have to be careful’, Ben had continued. Richie smirked. He’d sort of expected the whole, ‘ _he’s my best friend and if you hurt him I’ll punch you so hard you swallow your own teeth’_ thing from Ben, he totally looked like the type. But… this was only the second time he’d spoken to Ben. Hell, it was only the second time he’d spoken to _Eddie._

 

‘and why do I have to be careful, Ben Handsome? Is the little firecracker going to spit on my donuts? Arsenic in the Apple Danish?’ Richie had laughed, playfully. The expression on Ben’s face remained stoic. Ben was not being playful. Ben was being serious. Richie was no good at serious business. He tried to manually tug the smile from his face, his brow knotting.

 

‘Eddie is a good kid. He’s kind, curious, and trusting. He’s too trusting’ Ben had said in a level, monotone voice. He stared at Richie, eyes unwavering.

 

‘Eddie is trusting. He will trust you, with the whole of himself. He will give you all of him, and expect you to blindly catch him, even if you’re not ready for when he falls’

 

‘that’s an interesting metaphor, Handsome’

 

Ben cut him off with a frustrated noise.

 

‘It’s not a damn metaphor, Richie, go back to school. I’m being serious. If you’re going to stick around, that’s fine with me. I like you. But if you’re just looking for some harmless flirting, someone to jibe with you, someone you can fuck casually, Eddie is not that. I will not let that happen.’ Ben spoke carefully, slowly, as if his words could explode in Richie’s face if he said them in the wrong way. Richie knew he wasn’t being unkind, so he just nodded dumbly at him.

 

‘I like him too’

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this is so short!! Grad school is kicking my ass, but my deadlines are nearly over, so I'll give this story a proper update this weekend.
> 
> Thank you for reading my loves! <3
> 
> lemme know what you loved and what you hated, it feeds my soul. 
> 
> x x x x x x x


	6. Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They go on a date.

Eddie had to wait nearly a week before Richie was _finally_ free to go out again. Stan was insistent that Eddie call it a date, ‘ _just call the damn fish a fish, Edward, it’s a date’._ Eddie had spluttered like a damn fish, before muttering something about Richie never making it _clear_ that it was a date, so he wasn’t going to _call_ the damn date a date until Richie made it _clear_ that it _was_ a date _._ Stan had just called him petulant, and smacked him (lightly) over the head.

 

So, after a week of moping around the bakery and driving Ben close to the brink of insanity with his insistent speculation about what Richie could _possibly_ be doing that made him so busy that he couldn’t see Eddie apart from his daily donut hole trips, Richie was finally – _finally –_ free. They arranged to go to dinner at some swanky Italian place that had opened up down the street from the bakery, and Ben had sent Eddie home from work two hours early because he kept dropping trays of brownies because his hands were shaking too much.

 

‘Eddie’

 

‘Don’t say it, Benjamin’

 

‘Eddie’

 

‘ _Don’t say it, Ben’_

 

‘Eddie, are you _nervous?’_

 

Eddie threw a muffin at his head.

 

‘Goddamn it, Eddie, stop throwing these at me!’

 

‘Well then stop MAKING me throw them at you, you asshole’

 

Eddie loved Ben with the whole of his entire heart.

 

* * *

 

 

Eddie had gotten to the restaurant ten minutes early, hoping to get seated at their table ( _it was booked in his name)_ and down a whiskey or six before Richie arrived. Ben was sort of right – he was nervous, but not for the reasons Ben probably thought. When he thought about Richie, Eddie’s heart hammered in his chest in the way it had when he’d first met Jasper, and look how _that_ had turned out. He was pretty sure that Richie was nothing like Jasper. Richie wasn’t smooth dark chocolate, sweet with a bitter edge. Sweet and syrupy enough to get you hooked, to make you want more, but never quite _enough._ Richie wasn’t that. Richie was pop rocks, Richie was twizzlers and those candies that stain your tongue.

 

When Eddie did arrive at the restaurant, dressed in his best black dress pants and a burgundy wine coloured silk shirt, he discovered that Richie was already there.

 

‘I so did _not_ peg you for the early type’, Eddie joked as the waiter, a kind looking older man, removed his chair from under the table with a flourish, indicating for Eddie to sit down.

 

‘I’m full of surprises, Eddie Spaghetti, you’re in for a real treat’

 

‘Just because we’re eating Italian food does not mean you’re allowed to call me Eddie-fucking-Spagehtti’ Eddie pouted, crossing his arms indignantly over his chest. Once he’d stopped pretending to be annoyed, he looked at Richie properly. He was dressed in a simple black button up and skin-tight black jeans, with the same converse with the doodles on the rubber toe that he always wore. He was also, much to Eddie’s delight, wearing a tie. Richie, however, had not noticed Eddie not-so-subtly checking him out, interrupted his train of thought.

 

‘I know I only saw you this morning but I’d honestly forgotten just how fuckin’ gorgeous you are, Eddie’

 

Eddie choked on the wine he had been drinking. He expected Richie to laugh at him, to pull some wise crack about Eddie _choking on something else later,_ or to at least fire that megawatt grin at him, but he didn’t. Eddie could feel his cheeks burning, an angry red flush that he was sure spread right down to his feet.

 

‘Uh’ was all he managed to say, staring intently at his wine glass like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

 

‘You are _gorgeous_ , Eddie. You are so damn beautiful, and I thought that the first time I ever visited your bakery. I saw you through the window and – Eds, are you okay?’

 

The fact that he was still staring dumbly at his wine glass hit Eddie like a tonne of bricks, and he glanced up at Richie’s face.

 

‘Yeah I – I guess I’m not very good at taking compliments?’ he mumbled, but in a moment of uncharacteristic forwardness he reached across the table and grabbed Richie’s hand in his own. It was damp, and slightly sticky. Eddie wanted to hold it for the rest of his life.

 

Richie complimented Eddie approximately once a minute from then on. He complimented Eddie on the way he held his fork, on the way his adam’s apple bobbed up and down when he spoke, on the way he sat with his legs crossed, and on the way he twirled his spaghetti around his fork.

 

‘See!’

 

‘Don’t you dare’

 

‘It’s fate!’

 

‘I just like Bolognese, okay, Richie. I like Bolognese and it always tastes the nicest in –‘

 

‘You ARE Eddie Spaghetti!’

 

* * *

 

 

The thing about Richie, Eddie came to realise, was that he never shut up. The first time they’d hung out – at the coffee shop – Eddie had done almost all of the talking. Richie had sat there and listened, and Eddie would be lying if he said he hadn’t enjoyed finally being the one to lead the conversation. However, he would _also_ be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the fact that Richie could probably break the world record for the most direction changes in a conversation. They’d talked about _everything._ They’d talked about Richie’s best friend, Mike, and how Eddie would _love_ Mike. Richie had waxed poetic about Mike for so long that, if he hadn’t also waxed poetic about Mike’s girlfriend, Eddie’s internal jealousy alarm would be beeping furiously in his ear.

 

Somehow, the conversation had organically landed on Eddie’s mother, as conversations often do when they involve childhood anecdotes.

 

‘Well, she’s got this thing – munchausen’s by proxy, right? I told you about it before. So she convinced me I needed these damn epilepsy pills, she said I’d been having seizures in my sleep, that if I didn’t take these – monstrous – and I mean _huge ass_ pills, I’d swallow my tongue in my sleep and die! Who tells that to an _eight_ year old!’ Eddie practically yelled, hands gesticulating wildly. He was pretty drunk by now, they’d shared a bottle of red with a name that Eddie couldn’t pronounce. Richie had said it was ‘ _foine woine, laddy_ ’ in a terrible Irish accent that made Eddie want to launch himself over the table and smooch the crazy haired moron stupid.

 

‘Hey now, that’s my girlfriend you’re talking about. I let Mrs K slip _big ass things_ down my throat all the time’

 

Eddie pretended to vomit onto the floor.

 

‘That doesn’t even make SENSE, Richie! Surely YOU’D be the one giving HER the big ass – oh my god, why am I even arguing with you about sticking your COCK down my MOTHERS throat!’

 

‘Oh baby, say cock one more time’ Richie leered, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

 

Eddie groaned, and let his head hit the table with a satisfying thud. He could hear Richie hooting with laughter.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Two hours, and two more bottles of wine later, they both stumbled out of the restaurant, a pleasant buzzing echoing in their brains from the wine sitting happily in their stomachs, to find that the heavens had opened with a roar, and rain was falling in sheets from the sky. Richie squealed and ducked down, pulling the back of Eddie’s jacket up and over his head, so he was standing directly behind him. Eddie’s breath caught in his throat, and he dumbly stood frozen to the spot, getting progressively more and more soaked.

 

‘What’s the plan, ‘skettio?’

 

‘whaa? – I mean, what?’

 

Eddie could feel Richie’s arms coiling around his waist from behind. His brain was definitely short circuiting now.

 

‘It’s raining, loser. We can’t go to the park in this!’

 

The synapses in Eddie’s brain started to shoot their electrical signals once more, and Eddie realised that he was stood in the middle of the street, drenched to his bones, with Richie – who was easily 7 inches taller than him – currently crouched behind him, with his jacket comically covering his head. They probably looked absolutely wild.

 

‘Come with me’

 

Eddie grabbed Richie’s soggy palm in his, and they ran through the dimly lit streets, hollering and laughing as they went. Richie jumped in every puddle they passed, and Eddie pretended to be annoyed every single time.

 

‘You don’t even know where I’m taking you’, Eddie called over his shoulder. He was breathing harder now, his legs pounding the cracked pavement rhythmically. When he glanced back briefly, conscious that if he spent too much time looking backwards he might soon be face-to-face with the floor, he almost swallowed his tongue. Richie’s face was flushed and wild, hair a dishevelled crown and glasses slipping down his nose. His stupid converse with the drawings of ducks on the rubber toe were soaked through, as were the bottom of his jeans. His eyes were glittering. His face was split with the biggest grin Eddie had ever seen. He looked fucking _beautiful._

 

Eddie stopped running, causing Richie to charge straight into his back, shunting them both forward. Richie steadied himself with his hands on Eddie’s shoulders. The grin fell off his face, only to be replaced with a look of pure, unabashed concern – concern so genuine Eddie couldn’t stand to look at it anymore. He grabs Richie’s stupid tie, yanking his neck down, and smashes their mouths together. Partly because Richie was not expecting it, and partly due to the sheer force with which Eddie collided their mouths, the kiss was messy and embarrassing. Their teeth knocked together and lips slid awkwardly past each other. Eddie had his eyes screwed tight, determined not to open them and have to acknowledge what he had just impulsively done in case he’d made a mistake, and Richie just wanted to be friends, or one of the other thousand excuses Eddie had rattled past Stan at five hundred miles an hour before he’d been flicked on the nose.

 

The panicky acid in Eddie’s stomach turned to honey when he felt one of Richie’s hands curl tightly around the base of his neck, and the other cup his cheek gently. The rain was still hammering relentlessly around them, and their mouths were slick with rain and spit. Eddie caught himself idly thinking that this was the moment he’d remember right before he died.

 

They stood there, kissing desperately in the rain, for what felt like hours before Richie pulled his mouth away from Eddie with a comical slurp. Eddie kept his eyes screwed shut, letting his face fall forward onto Richie’s shoulder.

 

‘Well aren’t we just the picture perfect definition of _fucking cliché’_ Richie murmured in his ear, and any apprehension, any latent paranoia, any insecurity that Eddie was still harbouring deep deep down in his soul in the box marked ‘ _damaged’_ melted away like snow.

 

‘I was taking us to the bakery’ Eddie whispered, voice barely audible.

 

‘Do you still want to go?’ Richie replied, soft and open. His hands were rubbing small circles on Eddie’s lower back. Eddie felt himself release a small noise not too unlike a purr.

 

‘Maybe – Maybe we could, if you want. We could – mine? I live near here? We could –‘

 

Richie cut him off with a sigh. Eddie did not like that noise. He pulled back slightly, eyes searching Richie’s face.

 

‘Eds, Eddie, I can’t’

 

Eddie raised an eyebrow, challenging.

 

‘If I come back to yours, I won’t be able to leave. I’ll stay all night. I won’t be able to drag myself away from you’

 

‘And why are you saying that like it’s a bad thing? How could that possibly be a bad thing? I want you to stay all night, I don’t want you to leave, I want you’ Eddie hissed.

 

They were still stood in the open, and now that Richie’s electric kisses were not coursing through his body he finally felt the rain, harsh and cold. It hit his face unrelentingly, unapologetically.

 

‘Eddie, Eddie, please don’t – please don’t beg me because I will break but I can’t, Eddie please don’t’ Richie was begging now. His finger hooked under Eddie’s chin, forcing him to look up. Richie’s face was unguarded and soft, his brow was knotted and his eyes weren’t sparkling anymore. Eddie wanted to relight the fire in his irises.

 

‘It’s okay’ Eddie whispered, even though it wasn’t, really.

 

‘Do you still want to go to the bakery? I don’t have to go home yet’ Richie asked, testing.

 

‘Of course I do’

 

They walked to the bakery in silence. Eddie tried to shove both of his hands in his pockets, but Richie caught his left one before he’d managed to. They walked in silence, hand in hand, rain pelting them furiously but Eddie was barely noticing it anymore.

 

* * *

 

 

They got to the bakery in what felt like no time at all, and Eddie had opened the clackety metal door guard, ushering a soaking wet Richie into the warm darkness of the shop. Richie shuffled in, looking around him with a ridiculous look of awe on his face, like he’d never been here before.

 

‘It’s just the bakery, Rich, you’re in here almost every morning’

 

‘I know, but this is bakery after dark! It feels different, somehow. Do you have secret bakery raves in here? You could totally have secret bakery raves in here – why do I feel like a criminal? This is liberating!’

 

Eddie ignored Richie’s hyper babbling, and walked back through into the kitchen. Richie followed him, still talking about feeling like a spy breaking into a bakery with an underground drugs operation. Or something.

 

‘Richie’

 

‘Eddie’

 

‘Why are you so weird’

 

‘and you like me, so what does that say about _YOU?’_

 

Eddie scoffed, rolling his eyes.

 

‘and who said I liked you?’

 

Richie smirked, backing Eddie up against one of the counters. Eddie stopped breathing, feeling his eyes grow wide and owlish.

 

‘That. That look right there. The look that says if I kissed you, you’d probably make some embarrassing noise and maybe even faint’ Richie whispered in Eddie’s ear, before catching the lobe of his ear in his teeth.  

 

Eddie had to physically clamp his hand over his mouth to stop the very embarrassing noise that Richie had predicted from escaping out of his mouth.

 

Richie released his ear, and span away towards the ovens laughing.

 

‘So, my love, what are you going to teach me to bake?’

 

* * *

 

 

Richie was a terrible baker. He was inpatient, unprecise and messy and, if anyone else had spilt cocoa powder ( _the fancy stuff! Not even the cheap stuff they get from Costco for the sheet cake!)_ all over the floor, Eddie would have practically vibrated out of his skin with rage. But, when Richie had sent the canister careening off the counter with an embarrassed ‘oops’, Eddie had just found himself smiling fondly. They had, however, shared a particularly delicious moment when Richie was trying to cream butter and sugar together. He wasn’t doing a particularly good job, so Eddie took it upon him to help. He stood behind Richie and slid his arms forward to place his hands on top of Richie’s, to help the taller man stir the mixture. Really, it should have been nothing but hilarious, due to the height difference. But it wasn’t. Neither of them laughed. Eddie could feel his face burning red hot, and Richie wasn’t breathing, and was uncharacteristically quiet. After the sugar and butter mixture was smooth enough to carry on baking with, Eddie tried to step away, but Richie wouldn’t let him. He span in Eddie’s arms, and cupped Eddie’s face in his hands. He didn’t say anything, just pressed his mouth to Eddie’s.

 

The kisses started slow and sweet, almost hesitant. Neither of them were interested in deepening the kisses until Richie’s hand, which had been rubbing slowly up and down Eddie’s arm, dipped lower and curved around his body, landing firmly on Eddie’s ass. The kisses turned more desperate then, and Eddie could taste the lingering bitterness of the wine they had drunk hours before. Eddie moved his hands to Richie’s jaw, ghosting his fingertips over the stubble on Richie’s face. Richie was pawing at Eddie’s ass, and before he knew it, Eddie was being shoved backwards, and lifted onto the counter. Richie pushed his way in between Eddie’s legs, which curled around Richie’s waist, holding him in place. Richie kissed along Eddie’s face, along his cheek, and began placing firm, wet, open-mouthed kisses on his neck. Eddie keened, squeezing his eyes shut and clawed at Richie’s back. They continued like that, kissing like desperate teenagers, until Eddie realised where they were.

 

‘Rich – Richie, Rich –‘

 

‘ _fuck,_ Eds _,_ keep saying my name, keep saying –‘

 

‘No, Richie, stop – Rich…’

 

Richie pulled away.

 

‘Baby? Are you okay?’

 

Eddie groaned at the pet-name, causing the look of confusion on Richie’s face to intensify.

 

‘We can’t – I work here, we prepare food here, this is so unhygienic … If the health inspector came and saw us necking like schoolkids on the counter they’d shut us down and then Ben would never talk to me again’ Eddie spluttered in one breath, chest still heaving. He can’t quite bring himself to look at Richie.

 

‘Hey –‘ Richie’s finger catches under his chin, raising it so Eddie is looking at him, in the same way he had earlier.

 

‘It’s okay, Eddie – I get it. I should probably get going now anyway, I didn’t realise it had gotten so late’

 

‘I’m sorry –‘

 

‘Eddie, please don’t apologise. I just – I can’t control myself around you. You make me forget myself’

 

Eddie didn’t know what to say. Richie was an enigma, flitting unpredictably between hyperactive and sincere, almost painfully open. Eddie was infatuated with both sides of him. Richie didn’t give Eddie a chance to respond, before he was pressing a soft kiss to the inside of Eddie’s wrist.

 

‘I’ll call you, okay? Hell, I’ll probably text you as soon as I get home. You can get home okay, right? It’s kinda late – maybe I should –‘

 

Eddie cut him off, with a small smile.

 

‘Rich, go, honestly, it’s fine. I live close, I’ll get home safe I promise.’

 

That seemed to temporarily placate Richie, even though he still didn’t look to happy about Eddie walking home alone in the dark.

 

‘Okay well – text me as soon as you get in safe, okay? I won’t sleep if you don’t’

 

‘I promise I will’

 

‘See you tomorrow morning, baby’ Richie whispered, winking at Eddie when he heard Eddie’s breath catch pathetically at the second use of the pet name.

 

Eddie had barely whispered his own ‘bye’ in response before Richie had gone.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!!! look at me go.
> 
> I finally updated my OG Reddie fic! I've been really disillusioned with this one for some reason, but I've planned out the entire thing now so updates should be way more regular. 
> 
> catch me on tumblr!! with the less optimistic URL;  
> @thefutureisnotsobright  
> I'd love to chat to you guys <3
> 
> Lemme know what you loved and what you hated as per usual <3 thank you so much for reading!!


	7. For Fucks Sake, Richie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They get high together. Richie lets Eddie down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI: There is recreational drug use (Weed) in this chapter!

Eddie is shocked to find that he is actually an incredibly patient person when it comes to Richie. He had always thought of himself as uptight – Jasper had always used the word _neurotic_ which always made Eddie feel like a nineteenth-century woman who had just been diagnosed with hysteria. Eddie had always felt like a coiled spring, tension wrapped in skin, threatening to explode in the face of those who don’t _quite_ meet up to his impossibly high standards. However, when he’d met Richie, and Richie had certainly _not_ lived up to Eddie’s standards, he’d surprised himself. Richie was flighty, somewhat cagey, and his passion burnt red hot, but Eddie was not afraid of getting burnt for the first time in forever. The one thing that made Eddie twitchy, though, was Richie’s damn phone. The phone that _always_ went off at least three times every time they spent any considerable amount of time together. Richie never answered the phone in Eddie’s presence, he always made some excuse – ‘It’s Barack Obama, Eds, top secret CIA intel, I gotta take this outside’, or something equally as ridiculous. Eddie tried not to be suspicious. He tried really _really_ hard not to care.

 

* * *

 

Ever since Eddie had told Richie that he smoked medical marijuana, Richie had been obsessed with the idea of them getting high together. Regardless of how many times Eddie had told him that he didn’t get high recreationally, and it was basically the same as taking too much NyQuil with the intention of getting wavy, Richie was having none of it. So, partly as a placating measure because he was getting sick of being harassed about it, and partly because he wanted to spend as much time as physically possible with Richie, Eddie agreed that they could go to the park and smoke up together.

 

‘You do realise that we could just smoke up on my balcony, right?’

 

‘Well, yes I suppose we _could_ just get high together on your balcony but that wouldn’t be as _fun_ now, would it, ‘skettio?’

 

‘Don’t call me that’

 

‘Don’t pretend that you don’t want to be a naughty little boy and get high in the park like a dirty degenerate?’

 

‘I’ll show you _dirty degenerate’_

So they’d made plans to meet at the bakery after dark, and walk up to the park together. The park was just outside of the city, maybe a twenty minute walk or so. Eddie had suggested that he drive, but Richie had reminded him that they were planning on getting high, and, despite his intentions of corrupting Eddie’s innocent nature, he was not prepared to let Eddie drive after smoking copious amounts of weed. Eddie had blushed, embarrassed.

 

That’s how Eddie found himself waiting outside the bakery, dressed in too many layers and clutching his backpack tightly in his hands, the see-through baggy of weed tucked safely in the inside pocket. Eddie didn’t have to wait long until he saw Richie bounding up the road, headphones clamped firmly over his ears, glasses sliding – as they almost always were – down the curved slope of his nose. He walked up to Eddie, but didn’t stop, and instead just grabbed Eddie’s hand and pulled him along.

 

‘Fancy seeing you here, my love’

 

‘Hello, Rich’ Eddie replied softly, threading his fingers between Richie’s.

 

They walked in comfortable silence, Eddie’s backpack now thrown lazily over one of Richie’s shoulders.

 

‘How was your day, Eds?’ Richie asked, initiating the kind of small talk that Eddie usually found tedious and dry.

 

‘It wasn’t too bad – I made over one hundred cream horns and we only sold thirty two, so Ben sent me home with about forty of the damn things, so the next time you see me you’ll probably have to roll me around like Violet Beauregard’

 

Richie snickered, waggling his eyebrows in Eddie’s direction.

 

‘I can tell that you want to make a joke about me being _full of cream_ but you won’t do it if you still want to have both of your balls attached to your body’ Eddie snarled, with no real bite behind his words.

 

‘Kinky, Eds’

 

They walked for another twenty minutes like this, sharing banter and dirty jokes the whole time, until Eddie started to feel the familiar bite in his calves that told him, ‘you’re unfit, you’re unfit, you’re unfit’

 

Richie, sensing that Eddie was becoming progressively more irritated, slung his arm around Eddie’s shoulders. Eddie huffed.

‘I so regret letting you convince me to come to the damn park to smoke when I could be smoking at _home_ in the _warm_ and my calves wouldn’t _hurt_ and we could be _naked,_ Richie. Naked.’ Eddie moaned, waving his arms around ridiculously to emphasise the fact that it really was a crime that they were having to smoke in some dirty, soggy park on dirty, soggy grass.

 

‘Can it, ‘sgetti head, do you want me to carry you?’

 

Eddie, feeling particularly petulant, and with not believing that Richie would actually scoop him up, replies that yes, maybe he _does_ want to be carried, damnit.

 

Without giving Eddie much time to comprehend what was happening, Richie shoves his other arm through the strap on Eddie’s backpack so it was now sitting flush against his back, and picked Eddie up so he was hanging bridal style in his arms. Eddie shrieked, and threw his arms around Richie’s neck. The shriek is soon replaced with great hoots of laughter, Eddie wiggling in Richie’s arms. Richie can’t carry Eddie like that for long, and Eddie feels Richie’s arms begin to shake after five minutes.

 

‘Change of plan, hang on’ Richie announces, and places Eddie back on the floor. He then takes off Eddie’s backpack, and passes it to him.

 

‘Hold, please’ he asks, and Eddie just clutches at it, looking at Richie with confused eyes. Richie turns, and pats his back.

 

‘Hop on, cowboy’

 

Eddie all but leaps at Richie, circling his legs around his waist, and clutching at his shoulders with his arms.

 

‘Onward, stead!’ he commands, squeezing Richie’s sides with his thighs. Richie starts galloping up the road. They both laugh until they can’t breathe.

 

* * *

 

 

Richie manages to carry Eddie all the way to the park, much to the surprise of both of them. They decide to smoke up in the area with the most trees, in the hope that the dense foliage will conceal the cherry-red burning ends of the blunts. Eddie initially complains bitterly about having to sit on the floor, until he remembers that he brought a blanket with him for this very purpose, and smugly removes it from his backpack. He also removes the baggy of weed, which Richie immediately makes grabby hands at.

 

‘Are you any good at rolling?’ Eddie calls over his shoulder as he sets the blanket down in an area where the thicket isn’t so dense and scratchy.

 

‘Are you kidding? They don’t call me magic fingers for nothing’

 

‘You told me they call you magic fingers for _other reasons’_ Eddie replied, grinning wolfishly.

 

‘Well, the name is appropriate for many reasons, Eds, and I’m hoping that you’ll come to appreciate all of them’ Richie drawls, coming up behind Eddie, pushing his body flush against Eddies, knees to chest. Eddie feels a shiver ricochet through his whole body.

 

‘You didn’t answer my question’ Eddie whispers, not trusting himself to speak any louder. Richie doesn’t say anything, just steps away from where he is crowding Eddie’s back, and starts rolling fat, slightly wonky blunts. Eddie can’t breathe.

 

* * *

 

 

‘Eds, Eddie, Eddie Spaghetti, Edward Spagedward, this is some _goooooood shit’_  Richie all but purrs, blunt hanging loosely between his fingers. Eddie snorts, his head resting on Richie’s stomach. He can feel Richie’s fingers carding loosely through his hair, occasionally tugging just hard enough that Eddie’s eyes roll back into his head blissfully.

 

‘I know right? I pay a metric shit tonne of money for this stuff, I have paranoid dreams about smoking some dodgy shit that will fuck me up but this stuff costs as much as my rent so I trust it’

 

‘Well, I’m sticking with YOU then, my sugar daddy’ Richie laughs, taking another long, slow drag before holding the blunt to Eddie’s lips. Eddie inhales, eyes locked firmly to Richie’s. He hollows his cheeks, and moans slightly, just to see how Richie would react. Richie watches him, eyes glazed over and mouth slack. Eddie feels something warm pooling at the bottom of his stomach.

 

They smoke all the weed Eddie brought with him in around two hours. They’re really _really_ high by this point, and Eddie’s head is floating in some preternatural realm that is entirely dedicated to the way Richie’s lips keep pressing wet kisses to the pads of his fingers.

 

‘Where are you from, Richie?’ Eddie asks, the scratchiness of his voice surprising him.

 

‘Planet Earth?’

 

‘No, like –‘ Eddie gesticulates wildly, ‘where did you grow up?’

 

‘Oh, bumfuck, Maine, some shitty town in the arse-end of nowhere, I had a pretty okay childhood as childhoods go, but the town I grew up in was pretty dead’

 

Eddie nods along, humming noncommittedly, before sparks shoot in his hazy brain and he sits up, swaying slightly.

 

‘Wait, Maine? Where in Maine? I grew up in Derry!’

 

It’s Richie’s turn to sit up now, eyes sparkling, hands clutching at Eddie’s shirt.

 

‘No fuckin’ way! I lived a few miles out of Derry, I used to go to that shitty ice-cream parlour in Derry with my dad’ Richie shifts so he’s resting his head on Eddie’s shoulder, practically whispering the last part of the sentence into Eddie’s shirt.

 

‘Yeah? Me too! I mean, I don’t actually remember going there with my dad because he died when I was four, so I only have these foggy memories of kind eyes and strawberry sprinkles. I have pictures of us there though, so I know it happened’

 

Richie doesn’t move his face from where it’s smooshed against Eddie’s shoulder, he just lets this weirdly strained sigh escape from his lips. Eddie’s arms unconsciously tighten around him in a protective circle. When Richie doesn’t say anything, he continues.

 

‘I have loads of pictures of us together. Pictures of us playing in the garden, pictures of us swimming in the quarry, of us on my third birthday with birthday cake all over my face and his face. He had cancer, so he knew he was dying, so he made my mom take thousands of pictures of us together. He –‘ Eddie stops, closing his eyes. He counts to three, breathing in and out as slowly as he possibly can. ‘He left me a letter, actually. A letter he’d written for me to open on my eighteenth birthday. I’ve not opened it yet, though’.

 

‘Why?’ Richie whispered, words wet against Eddie’s skin.

 

‘Once I open it, he’s gone? Totally gone? The letter means there’s still something I have of him, something that still lives. When I open it, that’ll disappear – I’ll know everything, and I just – I can’t do it. Am I making sense? I’m really fucking high’

 

Eddie can feel his shirt get wetter and wetter, and it takes about three seconds for his weed-addled brain to realise that Richie is crying properly now.

 

‘Richie? Rich, Sweetheart, I’m so sorry. Did I upset you? Are you okay? Rich, talk to me please’ Eddie babbles, trying to get Richie to look up at him.

 

‘No, no, Baby, no you didn’t upset me. I just – I really miss my own dad’ Richie hiccups, rubbing his face against the sodden material of Eddie’s shirt.

 

Eddie stills, panicked.

 

‘Oh shit – did he die too?’

 

‘Oh, no. He’s still alive. He lives in London though. My parents divorced a few years ago. It was totally amicable, no one cheated or anything – my dad got a new job in London and my mother… she…’ Richie can’t finish his sentence, just cries bitterly and openly into Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie rubs what he hopes are calming circles into the skin at the base of Richie’s spine, where his shirt had rucked up. They sit like that for what feels like centuries. Eddie hums sweet melodies into Richie’s ears. Abruptly, Richie looks up at Eddie, eyes red and pained and raw and Eddie can’t take it. He touches his mouth gently to Richie’s, and they kiss until they don’t feel high anymore.

 

* * *

 

 

Everything goes wrong for the second time a week later. They’d made plans to go see a movie. The film started at 7:30pm which Richie was not happy about, but Eddie (not that he was proud of it) had basically had a tantrum like an insolent toddler until he’d gotten his way and Richie had agreed to come and see the film. He had, however, informed Eddie that he’d have to leave almost immediately after the movie finished, much to Eddie’s chagrin. Eddie decided that this was not the hill he wanted to die on, and decided that he’d confront Richie about why he could never stay out late once he’d gotten him trapped in the dark at the cinema. Richie, however, hadn’t given him the chance.

 

Eddie arrived that the movie theatre at 7:15, and sat on the backrest of the bench outside the complex.

        

**To: Rich <3: [7:15pm]**

Im at the theatre x

 

**To: Rich <3: [7:22pm]**

         Do you want popcorn?

 

**To: Rich <3: [7:25pm]**

         omg I just saw an old man wearing a jacket with a dinosaur on it??? Would it be  weird if I asked where he got it

 

**To: Rich <3: [7:32pm]**

         Rich the film started 2 mins ago??? Where are u??

 

**To: Rich <3: [7:38pm]**

         Are you ok?

 

**To: Rich <3: [7:47pm]**

         For fucks sake Richie

 

Eddie left the theatre at 8.

 

He doesn’t bother texting Richie again. He drives straight to Bill and Stan’s house, knowing full well that he’d be crashing their date-night which would probably cause Stan to verbally castrate him, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to care. He stumbled up their front path, knocking feebly at their front door.

 

A very disgruntled looking Stan answers the door, and Eddie prepares himself to be verbally chewed out, but that doesn’t happen. Instead, he finds himself being pulled into a crushing hug. Eddie doesn’t cry, as much as he feels like he wants to, just breathes unsteadily, smelling the comforting scent of lavender shampoo and fresh cotton.

 

‘You’re okay, Eddie, you’re okay’ Stan whispers.

 

‘I know’ Eddie replies. He’s lost count of the amount of times Stan had murmured those exact words into his hair.

 

They’re still hugging in the doorway when Eddie feels another pair of arms snake around him from behind. Stan and Bill are probably doing their annoying eye-brow communication over Eddie’s head, faces contorted in the very familiar mask of worry. Eddie just focuses on breathing.

 

When Eddie tells them that Richie stood him up, and hasn’t text him back, he receives very different responses from Bill and Stan.

 

‘Fucking asshole. Ignore him, Eddie. You don’t need this shit, not after – not after _him._ This Richie guy doesn’t have a fucking clue – don’t. Don’t do this to yourself again’, Stan insists, jaw set in a firm line.

 

Bill, however, responds in a way that surprises Eddie.

 

‘I think you should ring him, Eddie’

 

‘Wha – Bill, seriously? The guy stood him up, why should Eddie have to chase _him?’_ Stan replies, shooting an incredulous look at his boyfriend.

 

‘I just, I just think you should give him a chance to explain, E-Eddie. Let him explain why he hasn’t r-replied, he owes it to you, and you owe it t-to yourself’.

 

Stan rolls his eyes.

 

Eddie just focuses on his breaths.

 

_In, two, three, four, out, two, three, four._

 

* * *

 

Richie texts Eddie for the first time at half past nine. The text is long enough that it takes Eddie nearly a minute to read the whole thing. Richie seems distraught. The text is littered with ‘baby’s’ and ‘sorry’s’ and ‘Eds’’ and ‘my loves’s’ and it makes Eddie’s heart hurt.

 

Richie texts Eddie for the second time at quater to ten. This text is even longer than the first. Eddie can’t bring himself to read it.

 

He rings Richie.

 

‘Eds? Eddie? Baby, Baby I am so sorry’

 

‘You didn’t turn up’

 

Richie doesn’t say anything. Eddie doesn’t breathe.

 

‘Eds’

 

Richie’s voice is wet.

 

‘Richie’ Eddie whispers, voice wavering.

 

‘Eddie, I’m so, so sorry. Stuff is just – stuff is so crazy at the moment, something happened at home and I just – I couldn’t get away. I didn’t even realise it was half nine until I looked at the clock and I saw your texts and – I’ve fucking ruined it haven’t I?’

 

Eddie pauses. Richie sobs.

 

‘Maybe’ Eddie breathes.

 

‘ _Eddie’_

 

Richie is openly crying now. Eddie’s heart is in his throat, pulsing angrily.

 

‘Eddie I can’t – You can’t –‘ Eddie can’t understand anything else Richie says, because he’s crying too hard. He realises that he’s crying, too. Big wet tears sliding down his cheeks. He wipes at them angrily.

 

‘Are you coming in tomorrow morning?’

 

‘What?’ Richie breaths, hiccupping.

 

‘Are you coming to Breaking Bread tomorrow?’

 

‘Yes’ Richie says, without pause. ‘Yes, if you want me to, I’ll be there as soon as you fucking open’

 

Eddie closes his eyes.

 

‘I’ll see you tomorrow, Richie’

 

He hangs up the phone before Richie can reply.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helllooooo my loves! Here is another chapter. As per the tags, there is definitely angst in this story. These boys are complicated, their stories are complicated, and real life ain't no fairy tale. I promise that there will be a happy ending though !! I'm too much of a sap for there not to be. 
> 
> I hope you liked this chapter, as always, let me know what you liked and what you hated. 
> 
> catch me on tumblr;  
> @thefutureisnotsobright
> 
> love you all x x x x


	8. Trust Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie can't catch a break, Richie messes up again, and Mike tells him some cold, hard truths.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to @gretaslandlord on tumblr who sent me THE NICEST MESSAGE ever after I updated last time. I hope it meets your expectations, my love!! <3

Eddie can barely pull himself out of bed the morning after Richie stands him up. His alarm goes off at four am, like it usually does, and whilst he can normally convince himself to drag his heavy bones from the depths of his blanket cave with the promise of coffee, it was just not happening that morning. He snoozed his alarm a total of six times before he finally stumbled to the bathroom at closer to five am than he’d normally dare. He stands in the bathroom and stares at his face in the mirror, and a stranger stares back at him. The stranger has dark rimmed eyes, hair that sticks up like porcupine quills, and a thin line that usurped the easy grin. Eddie stared at the stranger in the mirror, unblinking, until his eyes stung with dryness. Sighing, he shucked off his sleep shirt and stepped into a blisteringly hot shower. Eddie focused on his breathing.

 

_In, two, three, four_

_Out, two, three, four_

He was late to open the bakery. He was never late, never _had_ been late in all the years he’d been working there. Until now, of course. Eddie walked along the pavement, eyes cast down, vaguely humming along to the song blaring in his ears, and ran straight into the chest of someone walking straight towards him.

 

‘Oh, shit! Sorry, I’m so – Richie?’

 

Richie shot him an uneasy smile.

 

‘Heya, Eds’

 

‘Don’t call me that’ Eddie snapped, more than a little venom dripping from his words, like a thick, bitter syrup.

 

Richie’s face contorted in pain as he screwed his eyes shut before staring pointedly at the sky that glittered with stars, as if mocking the pitiful display below. Eddie sneered at it, before idly wondering if Richie was staring so intently at the sky because he was trying not to cry. Eddie didn’t have to wonder for long.

 

‘Sorry, Eddie’ Richie croaked, voice cracking.

 

‘Sorry for what? The nickname or leaving me sat in the carpark of the cinema complex like a fucking teenager?’ Eddie replied. His voice didn’t crack, and he didn’t sound like he was about to burst into tears. He took that as a win, eyeing Richie with what he hoped looked like nothing more than bored annoyance.

 

‘Hey, don’t – you know I want to – _Eddie’_ Richie finished his sentence with a groan, screwing his fists in his eye-sockets and rubbing harshly. Eddie thought about the stars behind Richie’s eyelids, and whether they were more beautiful than the ones suspended above them.

 

‘Do you want to come in? I need to start the ovens or Ben will chop my dick off’

 

Eddie walked past Richie, not giving him a chance to reply, before he hauled the metal grating up and unlocked the bakery door. He stalked through the door, not holding it open. The door slammed shut behind him. Eddie paused behind the counter, waiting, back turned from the entrance.

 

The door opened slowly behind him.

 

‘Eddie’

 

‘Richie’ Eddie replied, tightly.

 

‘Eddie, _please just look at me’_

 

Eddie span on his heels, placing his palms flat on the counter. Neither he nor Richie spoke for what felt like hours, eyes locked. Richie was the first to break.

 

‘I was with Mike’

 

‘Pardon?’

 

‘I was with Mike yesterday, that’s why I didn’t show up’

 

Eddie blinked.

 

‘Are you sleeping with him? Because I’m what Ben calls a _serial monogamist_ so if you’re fucking around with other people then this’ Eddie gestured between them with an accusing, angry hand, ‘this ends now. Whatever the hell _this_ even is’

 

Richie looked like Eddie has just slapped him across the face.

 

‘Jesus, Eddie – No I am not _sleeping with Mike,_ what the fuck. Mike has a _girlfriend,_ Eddie. Ayla. I mentioned her to you. I’ve told you about them. Fuck – I was with Mike because, because something happened and he’s the only one that knows about the thing that happened and I can’t tell _you_ about it because you’ll hate me – and you’ll _leave me_ and I –‘

 

Richie’s sentence ended with a wounded cry when Eddie all but ran to him and drew him into a tight embrace. Eddie let Richie cry on his shoulder for the second time, and for the second time, Eddie had no idea what had caused the tears.

 

‘What’s happening, Richie?’ Eddie murmured, low and sweet into Richie’s ear.

 

‘I can’t tell you’

 

Eddie sighed.

 

‘I can’t help you if you don’t tell me, Sweetheart’

 

Richie made a small, frustrated noise, before pulling away from Eddie and wrapping his arms around himself.

 

‘I can’t tell you, Eds, not yet. Maybe – Maybe one day? It’s just – it’s just so complicated. It’s complicated and Mike only knows because he’s …’ Richie paused, wiping at his face absently. Eddie held his breath, head swimming.

 

‘Mike knows because he’s had to help me out of some pretty fucking nasty spots, spaghetti head. I just – I can’t –‘

 

Eddie couldn’t breathe. He walked past Richie, who let out another wounded whine, shooting a ‘I need some air, please don’t follow me’ over his shoulder. Eddie stood outside, and the stars glittered.

 

* * *

 

 

When Eddie re-entered the bakery, he almost thought that Richie had left through the fire-escape in the kitchen, as he was nowhere to be seen.

 

‘Richie?’ he called out, tentatively.

 

‘Down here’

 

Eddie found Richie curled up in a mess of awkward spidery limbs behind the counter. Eddie’s heart spasmed at the sight.

 

‘Richie’

 

‘If you’re going to tell me to fuck off and never talk to you again can you just get it over with so I can go and –‘

 

Eddie pressed his mouth to Richie’s. Richie’s mouth was slick with spit and tears, and it tasted like cigarette smoke. Eddie didn’t care. Richie made a desperate noise that sounded like it was ripped from the depths of his soul, and scrabbled feebly at Eddie’s back, before his hands stilled around Eddie’s waist. Eddie clung to Richie’s shoulders like he was drowning. Maybe he was.

 

Eddie pulled away, resting his forehead against Richie’s.

 

‘So you promise you’re not sleeping with Mike?’

 

‘ _Jesus!_ Definitely not’

 

‘And you’re not a mafia boss?’

 

Richie snorted.

 

‘No, babe’

 

‘And you’re not running a covert black market organ selling business?’

 

‘Nope’

 

‘and you’re not actually straight, married to a woman, 2.5 kids, all that?’

 

‘Nein’

 

‘And you’ll promise you’ll think about maybe telling me what the hell is happening soon?’

 

‘I promise, ‘skettio. _If you’re gonna be my boyfriend, you gotta’ get with my neuroses_ ’ Richie sang.

 

‘Boyfriend?’ Eddie asked, a slight quiver to his voice betraying the fact that, internally, he was _freaking the fuck out._

 

‘I mean – if you wanna?’

 

‘I wanna, I definitely wanna’

 

They kissed on the floor until Ben walked in nearly an hour later and yelled at Eddie for not putting the tiger loaves in. Eddie didn’t care.

 

* * *

 

 

**From: Rich <3: **

[ _photo of Richie in a paint-splattered blue boiler suit, with lines of green paint of his face, like war-paint. His hair is in a bun, and there is paint on his glasses. He is smiling wildly]_

 

**From: Rich <3: **

mike is helping me paint my place!!!!!

 

**From: Rich <3:**

I just got paint on the couch whoops

 

 

**From: Rich <3:**

mike just whipped me with a paintbrush :( AVENGE ME SKETTIO

 

‘Eddie, are you listening?’

 

‘Hmmmm?’

 

Eddie looked up from his phone to see Ben chuckling into the sourdough mix.

 

‘what’cha laughin’ at, Hanscom?’

 

‘Oh, nothing. Just you being disgusting with Richie. Jesus, I’ve never seen anyone make that face at their _phone_ before, what’s he said? Has he proposed? Can I be your maid of honour?’

 

‘Oh my God. Ben. No. Stop. I don’t even believe in marriage and – nope. Shut up. He just sent me a selfie because he’s painting his place today’

 

Ben didn’t say anything, just chuckled heartily before flicking bits of dough at Eddie’s face.

 

‘I am so happy for you, Eddie’

 

‘Yeah, yeah, whatever you fuckin’ sap’

 

‘No, seriously. Eddie, I know Richie has been, what was it that Stan said? Something about removing spleens and feeding them to pigs? I honestly don’t know what Bill sees in him’

 

‘Get to the point, Hanscom’

 

‘Sorry – I know Richie has been… _a lot_ but I honestly cannot remember the last time I saw you light up like this. Well, not since Jasper, anyway’

 

Eddie flinched involuntarily. He hadn’t thought about Jasper for – well, he couldn’t remember the last time he thought about Jasper. His brain had been occupied with thoughts of something better, something that made his heart sing and his stomach flutter.

 

‘Love ya, Ben’

 

‘Love ya, too, kid. I’ll still knock his fuckin’ block off if he messes you around again, though’ Ben sneered, flexing his strong arms.

 

Eddie just laughed.

 

* * *

 

 

Eddie decides to do something spontaneous. Ben mentioning Jasper reminded him of all the times Jasper had yelled at him for his lack of spontaneity, of how he was ‘ _basically married to his fucking lists’._ So, Eddie decided to throw caution to the wind. He’d packed several treats in a brown paper bag, and had begged Ben to borrow his car ( _Eddie never drove to work, so his car was at home)_ so he could drive over to Richie’s place to deliver the baked treats. Luckily, Ben was still in a lovesick haze from their chat earlier, and agreed easily.

 

Luckily, Eddie vaguely remembered where Richie lived from the time he’d delivered the donut holes the first time, when Richie was sick, so he only got lost twice. He pulled up outside Richie’s house, snorting at how unlike Richie it looked. He’d forgotten about the literal white picket fence. Before he got out of the car, the door had opened and Richie had trotted out, rucksack on his back. Another man, the man from many of Richie’s twitter pictures, was stood in the doorway, his arm around a tall, blonde woman. They were both wearing the same kind of paint-splattered boiler suit Richie was in the selfie he’d sent earlier. They were talking, and Eddie cracked his window slightly, hoping to eavesdrop on the conversation.

 

‘I’m so sorry about your couch, Ayla’

 

That was Richie. Eddie blinked in confusion. _Ayla’s couch?_  Richie had mentioned he lived with Mike so maybe? Maybe Ayla did too? Did she buy their couch?

 

The blonde woman – Ayla – smacked Richie across the head playfully.

 

‘You’re forgiven, Dick. I guess you’re the one that gets the most use out of it anyway’

 

‘Thanks for coming over, Rich, this was definitely not a two person job’

 

That was Mike. Eddie’s head was swimming. _Coming over? What the fuck? Richie lives here, doesn’t he?_

‘Yeah, no problem Mike! I totally don’t mind helping out, you help me out with so much I think ruining your couch with paint is honestly the least you guys deserve’

 

‘You know we love ya, Trashmouth. I guess you’re just painting your own house eh? Still pretending you live here?’

 

Eddie could see Richie’s face fall, shifting from glee to pain in an instant.

 

‘I’ll tell him, I promise I’ll tell him but it’ll change everything and he’ll probably hate me and she’ll just hate me more and I just… I can’t. it’s too complicated. Her treatment is not going well, she’s not responding to the drugs properly so she’s out of it pretty much 24/7 and when she is lucid and awake and stuff she’s just a fucking nightmare. I don’t want him involved in this’

 

Eddie can’t breathe. He rolls the window up, and tries his best not to hyperventilate. _Pretending to live here? She? Drugs? What?_

Eddie watches Richie climb into a beaten up old Buick, and follows him down the road when Richie drives away.

 

* * *

 

 

Eddie follows Richie’s car all the way to a small neighbourhood on the very edge of New Jersey. It had taken nearly two hours. Eddie felt delirious. Richie had pulled up outside a small, run down old townhouse, and had let himself in with keys. So, whoever lived here had given Richie keys. Eddie could feel acid shifting in his gut.

 

**From: Richie <3: **

about to have a shower to wash this damn paint off

 

**From: Richie <3:**

wish u were here ;)

 

Eddie stared at his phone in disbelief.

 

**To: Richie <3:**

I need to see you

 

**From: Richie <3:**

I miss you too babe <3

 

**To: Richie <3:**

No. I need to see you today. Something has happened.

 

**From: Richie <3:**

R u okay?

 

**To: Richie <3:**

No. Richie. I’ll be at the coffee shop where we had our first date. If you don’t show by 6 I don’t want to ever hear from you again.

 

**From: Richie <3:**

I’ll be there baby I promise.

 

* * *

 

 

True to his word, Richie arrives at the coffee shop at ten to six. His hair is wild, and still slightly damp, and he looks absolutely terrified.

 

‘Eds – Eddie, what –‘

 

‘Is anything you’ve ever told me true?’

 

Richie just stares at him. Eddie hadn’t even given him a chance to sit down. He hadn’t been able to. His skin was vibrating, bristling off his bones. Richie slid into the empty seat across from Eddie, eyes wide.

 

‘What are you talking about?’

 

‘You heard me. Is anything you’ve ever told me true?’

‘Yes, of course it’s all fucking true? What? What’s happened? Who have you been speaking to?’

 

‘Oh, I haven’t been _speaking_ to anyone, Richie’ Eddie sneers, lips curling. ‘I haven’t been _speaking_ to anyone, but I did take a lovely drive down to the Jersey outskirts this afternoon’

 

Richie’s face pales.

 

‘I took a lovely drive’, Eddie continues, ‘and I saw something that made me sick to my fucking stomach’

 

‘Eddie –‘

 

‘Oh no, Richie. Let me finish telling you the story. See, I saw my fucking _boyfriend_ talking to his friends about painting _their_ house, and then I followed this beaten up old Buick all the way out of town, and you’ll never guess what I saw. I saw my fucking _boyfriend_ let himself into a house that he’s never _told me about._ It’s a great story, isn’t it?’

 

‘Eddie I just can’t – I can’t have you involved in this, it’s not fair, it’s too much’ – he’s actually crying, proper wet, ugly crying, and Eddie almost feels bad. Almost.

 

‘I can’t do this again, Richie. I refuse to let someone else treat me like I’m this naïve little boy, an ignorant little _child,_ Richie. I won’t do it’

 

Richie doesn’t say anything.

 

‘Did I ever tell you about Jasper, Richie? He was my you before I met you. He was my first love, Richie. I loved him. The kind of love that makes you feel physically sick whenever you’re apart from them. Fairy tale kinda love, right? Only it wasn’t. It wasn’t that at all, Richie. Jasper was all nice and sugar sweet for the first few months before it went sour. He was obsessive, and controlling and he didn’t trust me, Richie. He monitored my phone. He didn’t let me hang out with Bill and Stan. He only let me talk to Beverly because he was sure I wouldn’t try and _fuck her,_ Richie. But, and here’s where the story gets interesting. _He_ was the one sneaking around and fucking other boys!’ Eddie clapped his hands together, voice high and manic. He couldn’t breathe.

 

‘I can’t do this, Richie. I won’t let you do this to me. I thought I could love you, Richie. What a fucking _idiot._ Stan was right, Stan was fucking –‘

 

‘Love?’ Richie squeaked. Eddie rolled his eyes.

 

‘I thought maybe I _could,_ but obviously I was fucking wrong’

 

‘Eddie let me –‘

 

‘No. I don’t have to _let you_ do anything. We’re fucking done. You ruined it, congratulations Richie. I’m a fucking mug’

 

With that, Eddie shoved his chair back from the table with enough force to send it flying backwards, before he himself was flying out of the coffee shop before Richie had a chance to stop him. Eddie could hear Richie’s pained wails in the distance as he slammed out onto the street.

 

* * *

 

**Richie**

 

‘ _No. I don’t have to let you do anything. We’re fucking done. You ruined it, congratulations Richie. I’m a fucking mug’_

 

Richie didn’t watch Eddie leave. He just buried his face in his hands and howled like a baby. When the tears stopped falling and he felt less like vomiting, Richie had driven straight over to Mike’s.

 

‘I fucked up, Mike’ he wept as soon as Mike had opened the door, before falling face first into Mike’s chest. Mike held him up, like he had been doing for the past two decades. Mike always held him up and together, like Richie was going to splinter into millions of tiny pieces if he ever let go. Maybe he would. He felt like he might.

 

Mike ushered him into the living room, and onto the same sofa where he’d cuddled with Eddie the time he’d brought donut holes over when Richie had been dying of the flu. That only made him cry more.

 

‘What the hell happened, Rich?’

 

‘He fucking left, Mike. He told me he wanted nothing to do with me – he, he told me that he might _love_ me, Mike and then he _left’_

Richie could feel Mike bristle.

 

‘What did he do to you, Rich?’ Mike murmured, voice low and dangerous.

 

‘More like what did I do to _him’_ Richie wailed. He could feel Mike’s arms relax around him.

 

‘Oh Rich, did he find out?’

 

Richie just shook his head.

 

‘… did you not tell him, then?’

 

Richie shook his head again.

 

Mike sighed, long and loud.

 

‘I know this is hard. I know this feels like your burdening him, like your forcing your own shit on him when he doesn’t want it, but Eddie is crying out for you to be honest with him and hell, Rich, he deserves that much, doesn’t he? He deserves you to tell him, she’s your _mother_ , Richie, he’ll understand’

 

Richie snorted, wet and disgusting, wiping at his nose with the back of his hand.

 

‘Yeah, sure, Hanlon, I’ll just break out the, ‘oh you _can’t_ come over to mine because _mine_ isn’t actually _mine_ , it’s my bitch of a mother’s, who I live with because she’s got terminal bone cancer and I hate her because he made my childhood an actual living _hell_ but I live with her because of some ridiculous guilt complex _she_ gave _me’_? Yeah, fucking right, you lunatic, I sound like catch of the fucking day. That’ll make him want to stay with me’

                                                                              

Mike tightened his arms around Richie’s shoulders.

 

‘You have to try, Richie. If you trust him, and you want him, you have to _try’_

 

Richie breathes a shuddering breath ripped straight from his chest.

 

‘I guess you’re right’

 

**To: The Light Of My Life:**

Come to my house after work. I’ll tell you everything baby I promise.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eeeeeeeep. So now you know! Richie lives with his terminally ill mother, and that's why he's so cagey with his phone and why he's never let himself get that involved with Eddie. I hope I haven't disappointed loads of you with this reveal –panicked emoji– 
> 
> Lemme know what you loved and what you hated!! <3
> 
> Catch me on tumblr; @thefutureisnotsobright
> 
> thank you sooooo much for reading my loves <3


	9. You Stole My Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie thinks, and thinks, and gives Richie a chance.

Eddie doesn’t go to Richie’s after work. He borrows Ben’s car and drove himself to the beach. He used to come here a lot when he was with Jasper. He’d park up, and sit on the hood of his car. He’d cross his legs, and lean back on the windscreen, and close his eyes and listen to the sea throwing itself against the rocks, angry and loud. The air tasted briny salty tears. Eddie hadn’t come to this particular beach since he’d left Jasper.

 

The beach looks different, somehow. Really, nothing has changed. The sea is still the same greyish blue, and the wind whips angrily across Eddie’s face and his skin prickles with the same kind of apprehension. It looks different, though. The beach is Jasper. The beach is cruel words and harsh glares and hands around wrists. It’s not Richie. Richie is …

 

Well, Eddie doesn’t know what Richie is.

 

Richie is a geyser, simmering under the surface, ready to erupt in your face and burn your skin. Eddie doesn’t know how many times he can risk being burnt until his skin falls from his bones in messy clumps.

 

**From: Richie <3:**

Come to my house after work. I’ll tell you everything baby I promise.

 

Eddie looks at the text again and again and again until the small black words are etched onto his retina. He can see them when he closes his eyes, quick flashes of _baby_ when he blinks. Richie had sent that text four hours ago. Eddie had finished work two hours ago. Richie hadn’t text him since. Eddie idly wondered whether Richie cared that he hadn’t turned up. He knew which house Richie meant, after all. He knew that Richie wanted him to drive to the house on the edge of the city, the house that didn’t have the story book white picket fence. The house where Richie lived.

 

He rang Stan.

 

‘Eddie?’

 

‘Hey, Stan’

 

‘Where are you?’

 

Stan sounded concerned, his voice was soft. Eddie was used to this voice. When Eddie had first met Stan, he thought that the curly haired man was rude. Stan was deadpan, his humour was biting and he hardly smiled. Eddie hadn’t liked him. Bill, however, sat Eddie down, after he’d been dating Stan for three months, and told Eddie that Stan really liked him and wanted to go for coffee, just them. Eddie had tentatively agreed. That day had been the day that Eddie decided that Stan was going to be his best friend for the rest of his life. Stan had ‘ _been through some shit’_ he said, hands clasped around the steaming mug of coffee, shit similar to Eddie. Stan had told Eddie, with an earnest, pleading look in his eyes, that he loved Bill and he hoped that, maybe, one day, Eddie would love him too. Stan knew he was prickly, he knew that people thought he was just abrasive and rude and _not worth knowing,_ but he was just … scared. Eddie was scared too. They’d hugged, awkwardly across the table. Stan had screwed his hands in the back of Eddie’s shirt, and clung on like Eddie was his oxygen. They’d got back to Bill’s, all laughs and smiles and glittering eyes and Bill had cried. They’d both laughed at him. Since then, Stan had been Eddie’s best friend. Bill was more like a brother, after all.

 

‘The beach’ Eddie replied after a beat, a small smile playing across his lips despite the aching throb in his chest.

 

‘Do you need me to come and get you?’

 

‘No, I’m okay. I’m going to Richie’s house after this’

 

‘Okay, Eddie. If you need me to, I can come get you. I’ll always come get you’ Stan replied. Eddie could practically see his face reflected in the waves.

 

‘I know, Stan. I just have – I have to know’

 

‘I know you do, I know’

 

Eddie didn’t reply, just hung up the phone.

 

* * *

 

 

Eddie doesn’t go to Richie’s that evening.

 

* * *

 

 

Eddie wakes up to the sound of laughter. Groaning, he sits up, rubbing his forehead clumsily. Two seagulls are sat on the hood of his car, squawking indignantly at each other. Eddie’s face cracks with a small grin. The beach always looks different in the day. The grey water has been transformed into a dazzling stretch of aquamarine, waving at him, encouraging him to dip his toes. The sand, once a mass of grey lead is now a  glittering gold, as if an alchemist has painstakingly transformed each tiny grain. Eddie has never seen this beach during the day. It looks different.

 

Eddie scans for the source of the laughter that acted as his alarm clock, before his eyes land on two figures. They’re walking along the shore, hands clasped. They’re laughing, heads thrown back. Suddenly, one of the figures grabs the other by the waist, and stumbles into the lapping waves. The person being carried shrieks, before they’re being thrown into the sea. The other figure dives in after them. Eddie thinks of Richie. He has to look away.

 

He checks his phone.

 

            **From: Richie <3:**

Eddie I’m so sorry

 

            **From: Richie <3:**

I wont text you again after this but just know that I had the best few months of                my life with you and im always gonna love you for that

 

            **From: Richie <3:**

Goodbye Eddie Spaghetti, light of my whole fucking life

 

            **From: Stanley:**

Only you know what you need to do, Eddie. Love you, bud. X

 

‘Yeah, I guess I do’ Eddie whispers to the sea. It roars back at him, encouragingly.

 

* * *

 

 

Eddie pulls up outside Richie’s house at half past seven in the morning and he’s sick out of the window. His stomach gurgles, menacingly. The roar of the sea still in his ears, he stumbles out of the car, slamming the door with slightly too much force behind him. He feels drunk. The worst kind of drunk, the kind of drunk where you’d do anything to be sober again.

 

Richie is standing on the porch. He’s holding a cigarette and his hands are shaking. Eddie watches the smoke curls upwards, dancing towards the sun.  When he looks back at Richie’s face, he can see silent tears chasing each other down Richie’s cheeks. Eddie watches them fall off Richie’s chin. Richie either hasn’t noticed that he’s crying, or he doesn’t care, because he doesn’t try and wipe the wetness from his face. He just watches Eddie. Something like expectation flashes across his face, before Richie schools himself into careful blankness. He’s waiting, Eddie realises. He’s waiting for Eddie to make the first move.

 

Eddie walks slowly towards Richie.

 

He stops, arms crossed over his chest, protecting his heart, and looks up at Richie. A broken sob escapes Richie’s mouth, and he drops the cigarette on the floor. It sizzles pathetically, before the red cherry disappears to be replaced by an inky blackness. Eddie hopes it’s not a metaphor.

 

‘Do you want to sit down?’ Richie whispers, and his voice cracks like he hasn’t used it in days. He gestures to several rickety looking wooden chairs, and Eddie sits down in the closest one. Richie perches on the edge of the seat closest to him, leaning forward, trying desperately to push himself into Eddie’s space. Eddie leans away. Richie closes his eyes in pain, and sits back.

 

‘So’ Eddie offers, before he draws his lips into a tight line. He eyes Richie, expectantly.

 

‘I suppose I have a lot of explaining to do, eh, Spaghetti?’

 

‘Don’t call me that’ Eddie snaps, ‘not now. Don’t – Don’t do that’

 

The words fall out of his mouth dripping in more venom that Eddie intended. Richie flinches as if they burnt his skin. Eddie cringes, before reaching out and placing a hand on Richie’s knee. Richie places his hand on top of Eddie’s. Eddie pulls his back slightly, but he doesn’t remove it entirely. Richie smiles slightly.

 

‘Eddie – this is my mom’s house’

 

Eddie blinks. When he doesn’t say anything, Richie continues.

 

‘I live with my mother, Eddie. She – I guess – I’ve lived here for the past two years. She’s got cancer. Bone cancer. Her skeleton is trying to kill her or something, I dunno. I don’t ask the crazy old broad what goes on in those damn hospital appointments.’

 

‘Richie…’

 

‘Just – lemme finish, okay? Lemme – I just – I need to tell you this’ Richie scoots out of his chair entirely and kneels in front of Eddie. Eddie’s legs fall open slightly, and Richie shuffles his way in between them. He leans on Eddie’s thighs, elbows digging into the soft flesh. Eddie doesn’t care. His hands find themselves in Richie’s hair. He doesn’t know how, but he doesn’t move them. Richie’s hair is matted, but it’s soft. It’s so soft and Eddie just wants to bury his face in it.

 

Richie closes his eyes, and takes a shuddering breath that Eddie sees more than he hears.

 

‘I didn’t have the easiest childhood, sugar. It certainly wasn’t the picture perfect story book kinda’ shit that Mike had. I mean – my dad? My dad was pretty fuckin’ sweet. He was my favourite human being ever. But – he left  when I was 12.’

 

Eddie’s face twists in confusion.

 

‘but – when we got high in the park, you said – ?’

 

‘I know, I don’t know why I lied. Maybe so  didn’t sound so insane that my parent’s divorce over a decade ago still cuts me up inside? That I resent the only parent that ever loved me for fucking off to some other god damn scone-eating country and leaving me behind with some demonic harpy?’

 

Eddie hisses, empathy seeping from between his clenched teeth. One of his hands slides down Richie’s face so they’re cupping his jaw. Richie pushes his face into it, the ghost of a smile on his face. The smile disappears as quickly as it appeared though, sinking back into the recesses of Richie’s soul.

 

‘So, yeah. So I’m left behind with a woman who doesn’t care about anything but her goddamn soap operas and her bottles of bourbon and then – two years ago, guess what! The old bitch’s bones are trying to kill her. God knows it should have been her liver. Anyway, so she’s got this bone cancer, right? And I’m living with Mike and Ayla at the time, and, lemme tell you, Spaghetti –‘

 

Richie nods, enthusiastically, almost like a child. Eddie’s heart clenches painfully in his chest.

 

‘Lemme tell you, Spaghetti, it was pretty effing schweeeeet. Mike is so great to live with, he makes his own bread? Did you know that? ‘Course you don’t, you’ve never met him. You must meet Mike, Eds, you’ll love him and he’ll love you, and then we can –‘

 

‘Richie’ Eddie says, softly, tugging on Richie’s chin slightly so Richie is looking into Eddie’s eyes.

 

‘Sorry, Sorry’ Richie kisses the wrist of the hand trapping his chin. A shaky breath fights its way out of Eddie’s nose.

 

‘Anyway – so the spicy old broad has this bone cancer, right. And she rings me, and she’s all ‘ _Richard you have to move home, you can’t abandon your mother in her time of need_ ’ yada yada yada and I’m like… well shit, I guess I can’t, can I? I mean – maybe I totally could because she doesn’t love me and she never has but … how could I leave her alone, Eddie? How could I? She’s going to die by the end of this year, you know. She’ll be dead by Christmas and you know, _ding dong merrily on high, my fucking mother has died_ and –‘

 

Eddie kisses him.

 

Richie kisses him back, slow and sweet. Soon enough, though, and much much sooner than Eddie would have liked, Richie is pulling away.

 

‘Eddie’ he murmurs, low and cautious. He doesn’t move from where he’s knelt between Eddie’s legs, arms resting on his thighs.

 

Eddie leans forward, resting his forehead against Richie’s. Richie’s face is burning, a perfect contrast to the iciness of Eddie’s skin.

 

‘Tell me to stop, Richie. Tell me and I’ll stop’ Eddie whispers, voice gravelly.

 

A frustrated whimper escapes from the back of Richie’s throat, and suddenly he’s surging upwards and crashing his face against Eddie’s. It’s too enthusiastic, all too much, and the kiss is messy and full of teeth and tongues and too much spit. Richie is moaning, or maybe he’s crying, but Eddie is perfectly silent. He drinks Richie in, soaks him up, all the smoky, musky, stale sweetness.  

‘I’m sorry, Richie’, Eddie whispers directly into Richie’s mouth.

 

‘I’m so fucking sorry, Rich – sweetheart, I’m–’

 

‘Sssh’ Richie shushes him.

 

‘Why didn’t you tell me? What did you think would happen?’ Eddie says into Richie’s neck. They’ve stopped kissing now, and Richie’s arms are clasped around Eddie’s neck, boa-constrictor tight. Eddie’s hunched in the chair, awkwardly trying to hug Richie back but the angle is terrible and his back is groaning under the strain.

 

‘I thought you’d run a mile, hell, Eds, it’s a massive fucking commitment. Yeah, _my boyfriend lives with his bitch of a mother who made his childhood a living fucking nightmare but she has cancer now and he just can’t seem to leave her to fight it alone_ ’

 

‘But – I told you about my mom, so I thought you’d –‘

 

‘Yeah, you told me about your own psycho mother so I thought ... you wouldn’t want – that you wouldn’t want someone with too much baggage? You’d want some nice still in mint condition, never taken out of the box type boyfriend? Not –‘

 

‘Not what?’ Eddie challenges

 

‘Not me’ Richie whispers, head hanging in shame.

 

‘Look at me’

 

Richie doesn’t move.

 

‘Richard, _Look at me’_ Eddie commands.

 

Richie looks up at him.

 

‘You’re such a fucking idiot, Richie’

 

Richie groans, scrubbing his face roughly with his hands. His eyes are bloodshot, and his hair is stringy and his face is puffy from tears and he should look absolutely hideous but Eddie finds himself gasping because hell, if Richie isn’t the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. He tells Richie as such, whispering it like it’s a holy commandment.

 

‘Richie, you’re fucking beautiful’

 

Richie’s face twists. He doesn’t believe me, Eddie thinks.

 

‘But I hurt you, Eddie – I lied to you, for _months’_

 

‘I know you did’

 

‘and I never – I never came to your apartment and you’ve never – You’ve never met Mike and – It’s all my fault and I’ve just lied and lied and fucking lied and –‘

 

‘I don’t care, Richie’

 

‘What?’

 

‘I said I don’t fucking care anymore. I – I want to make this work but you have to _promise_ that you’ll talk to me. I’m not going anywhere, Rich. Just – trust me? You have to trust me. Please – trust me’

 

‘Okay’

 

‘Sorry, I didn’t quite hear you’

 

‘I said okay, Eddie. I trust you. I’m – I’m all in’

 

Eddie smiles, then. He smiles perhaps the biggest, most sincere smile he’s ever smiled. Richie stares up at him, from where he’s still crouched on the floor. Eddie slides out of his own chair, and crashes down next to him. Richie immediately pulls Eddie into an embrace.

 

‘So, Eddie, D’ya wanna meet my mother?’

 

‘I thought you’d never ask’

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!! here you go !! resolution !! This fic has one or two chapters left. 
> 
> I just wanna say thank you SO MUCH to everyone who has been commenting on this story from the beginning, and cheering it on. It has been an absolute pleasure to write this story and it means more than you know that you've enjoyed it. 
> 
> I hope you like this chapter! It's sort of short, so, sorry about that.
> 
> Catch me on tumblr; @thefutureisnotsobright
> 
> <3


	10. I love you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie meets Maggie Tozier.

The house that Richie shared with his mother was small, and smelt like cigarette smoke and damp plasterboard. Richie’s hand was sweaty where it was clamped tightly in Eddie’s, all slick skin and fingernail welts in the flesh of Eddie’s hand. Richie’s face was contorted into a manic smile that didn’t reach his eyes. His teeth were bared like a cornered chimp. Eddie wanted to comfort him, tell him that this was all going to be okay, but he’d be lying. He wasn’t sure whether this would be okay.

 

‘Have you come out to her?’ Eddie asked, gently, looking at the vase of daffodils sat on the kitchen table, the yellow heads drooping sadly towards the floor.

 

‘Not in so many words, Eds, not really. She caught me with someone, once. When I was seventeen, but the ol’ gal didn’t say anything.’

 

Eddie hummed, a low noise that he hoped was comforting, but probably wasn’t. He didn’t know what the protocol was for meeting the mother of your new boyfriend ( _very_ new boyfriend) who has terminal bone cancer and made said boyfriend’s childhood a, to use Richie’s words, ‘ _living fucking hell’_. Eddie hadn’t ever met Jasper’s parents. Jasper never spoke to them, never wrote to them, never saw them. Eddie supposed he probably should have taken that as a warning sign.

 

‘I don’t know what to do, Eddie’ Richie whispered. Eddie watched his legs buckle, as he collapsed into one of the rickety looking wooden chairs. 

 

‘What do you mean, love?’

 

‘I don’t know how to do this, I’ve never – She’s never really met anyone that’s important to me. She’s met Mike, right? She doesn’t mind Mike. Everyone likes Mike, I mean, how could you not? Kid’s made of solid fuckin’ gold. But – she’s never – I’ve never – I don’t know what she’ll say to you, Eddie’ Richie cautioned, eyes searching Eddie’s face pleadingly.

 

Eddie crouched in front of Richie, pushing his way in between Richie’s knees, a perfect recreation of their position earlier.

‘Richie, I don’t care what she says to me. I’ll be polite, the most polite damn gentleman you ever did see. It’ll be okay, Rich. Just – let this happen, okay? I want to know all of you, and this’, Eddie chuckled, ‘this is a pretty damn big piece of you’

 

‘Okay’ Richie replied, voice shaky.

 

Eddie grasped Richie’s hand, slippery with fear, and hauled him to his feet. They could hear loud, wet spluttering coming from the next room.

 

‘Is that you, Richard?’

 

* * *

 

Maggie Tozier had spent most of the last three years in and out of various different hospitals. Her son had lived with her for the last two. He’d moved home when she’d asked, but she hadn’t wanted to ask.

 

‘He’s a good kid, Maggie. He’s a damn good kid, and you never give him a break’ Wentworth had yelled at her down the phone.

 

She’d sent him a courteous email after she’d been diagnosed.

 

_Dear Wentworth,_

_I have bone cancer._

_Sincerely,_

_Maggie Tozier._

 

He deserved to know. She’d done her bit, emailed him, let him know. He'd rang her, yelled at her for sending an 'impersonal' email. She'd just laughed at him. When she’d told Richard she’d phoned him. She didn’t phone him very often, so perhaps this made it special.

 

_Ring ring_

_Ring ring_

_Ring ring_

_Ri-_

‘hello? What’s crack-a-lackin’?’

 

‘Richard? It’s your mother’

 

‘Oh’

 

‘Richard, I need you to move home’

 

_Laughter_

 

‘Mother, you cannot be serious’

 

‘Richard, I’m dying’

 

_Nothing_

 

‘What do you mean, _you’re dying?’_

 

‘I have chondrosarcoma’

 

‘Am I supposed to know what that means? Chon-dro-sar-cho-ma? Sounds pretty serious, ma’

 

‘Bone cancer, Richard. It’s bone cancer’

 

‘Shit’

 

‘Language’

 

‘ _Shit’_

A pause.

 

 

‘Mom?’

 

‘Yes, Richard?’

 

‘How long?’

 

‘Pardon?’

 

‘How long, until… you know’

 

 

A pause.

 

 

‘The doctor has given me less than two years’

 

‘ _Shit’_

‘Language, Richard! I won’t say it again!’

 

_Your call has been disconnected, please try again_

_Your call has been disconnected, please try again_

_Your call has been disconnected, please try again_

_Your call has been disconnected, please try again_

 

 

He’d turned up on her doorstep four days later, bags under his arms and under his eyes.

 

 

– X –

 

The first thing that Eddie noticed about Maggie Tozier was her eyes. They were made from the same stardust, galaxies swirling in light blue skies. They made her look kind.

 

‘Richard, who is this?’

 

Richie’s hand was clamped around Eddie’s like a vice, squeezing and squeezing and _squeezing_ until Eddie was sure that his fingers were about to pop out of their sockets.

 

‘This is Eddie, Ma. He’s my – my – He’s –‘

 

‘My name is Eddie Kaspbrak, Ma’am. I’m Richie’s friend. It’s so nice to meet you, you have a lovely home’

 

Maggie eyed him cautiously.

 

‘His friend, you say?’

 

‘Well –‘ Eddie hesitated, unsure how to continue.

 

‘Boyfriend?’ Maggie asked, matter-of-factly, gesturing to their clasped hands.

 

‘Um’

 

‘Yes, Ma. He’s my boyfriend’ Richie mumbled, hand still clamped around Eddie’s, but the vice relented, just enough that Eddie could feel the blood rushing back to the pads of his fingers.

 

‘And what is it that you do, Eddie?’

 

‘I – I work in a bakery?’ Eddie replied, his voice lilting up at the end as if it were a question. Asking her permission, _is it okay that I work in a bakery, Maggie Tozier, mother of the man I very well might be in love with?_

 

‘Very well. Richard, I’m tired. I want to go to bed, now’

 

‘You know where the stairs are’ Richie spat back.

 

Eddie watched curiously as the grown man before him slowly shrank back and morphed into a teenager again, all pouty lips and curt remarks.

 

‘Richard!’

 

Richie clicked his tongue, before sidling over to where his mother was sat, and helping her gingerly to her feet.

 

Eddie watched how, despite his protestations and his rolling eyes and his sharp remarks, Richie was all fleeting, gentle touches and patient small steps as he guided his stumbling mother towards the stairs.

 

‘Do you need – Richie, can I help?’

 

‘No – No, Eds. Just stay here, okay? Wait for me’ Richie replied, glancing back at Eddie over the top of his mother’s head.

 

‘Wait for me, Eds’

 

Eddie knew it was a declaration, a pleading, desperate statement. _Wait for me, Eddie. Please, wait for me._

 

 

‘I’ll be here, Richie. I’ll always be here’

 

* * *

 

 

Two months later, two months of what Eddie thinks could only be described as pure, unadulterated bliss, and everything turned sour.

 

Eddie had been back in his apartment, watering the spider plant that Richie had bought him, when his phone started to ring. Gwen Stefani’s strong voice belting out, ‘ _few times I’ve been ‘round that track, so it's not just gonna happen like that, 'Cause I ain't no hollaback girl’._ Eddie rolled his eyes indulgently, remembering the day that Richie had changed his ringtone to that song. He still wasn’t entirely sure why.

 

‘Hey, love’

 

‘Eddie, Eddie – fuck, Eddie – she’s not supposed to – It’s not supposed to be this soon? She’s –‘

 

‘Richie, Rich breathe, okay? Richie, what’s wrong?’

 

‘It’s too soon, Eddie. The doctor said – another year, maybe? But it’s – it’s too soon, Eddie, _it’s too soon’_

 

‘Where are you, Richie?’

 

Eddie couldn’t breathe. His knuckled were white from where he was gripping the counter top. His heart was pounding in his chest, a cacophony of _go to him go to him go to him_

 

‘Rich, where are you?’

 

‘The hospital – she’s – she’s covered in all these tubes, Eddie. I can’t even see her face, not really. The old bat – she’s _dying, Eds._ Proper dying, this time. _Fuck fuck fuck –‘_

 

‘Hold on, Richie. I’m coming – I’m coming for you, just _fucking hell –‘_

 

Eddie tripped on his laptop charger, and almost sent the phone flying out of his open window. He struggled to shove his sneakers on one handed, hopping comically from foot to foot.

 

‘Eddie, you still there?’

 

‘ _FUCK!_ Sorry – Rich, Baby, I’ll be twenty minutes, okay?’

 

‘Okay, Eds, I –‘

 

Eddie hung up the phone before Richie could finish his sentence, and he was soon flying down the steps of his apartment building, sweatshirt backwards, jeans falling down, eyes wild. Richie needed him.

 

* * *

 

 

If Eddie hadn’t hung up in such a hurry, he would have heard Richie utter those three words that he’d never said to another living soul in his entire life, apart from his father.

 

‘ _Okay, Eds, I – you know I love you, right?’_

_Your call has been disconnected, please try again_

_Your call has been disconnected, please try again_

 

‘Fuck’

 

 

* * *

 

 

By the time Eddie sprinted into the hospital car park, his lungs were on fire in his chest. He barely had time to think before was skidding along the linoleum floor, the all too familiar sent of industrial cleaning fluid and disease lingering in his nose. He suppressed a retch, eyes scanning the ward signs.

 

_Gynaecology - >_

_< \- ICU_

_Cardiac Recovery - >_

_Oncology <-_

Eddie scrubbed a shaky hand through his hair, and half-walked half-ran in the direction of the oncology ward.

 

The oncology waiting room was large, and almost completely empty. There was a figure slumped against the wall in the very corner of the room, hands jammed in their hair. They were rocking backwards and forwards slightly, and Eddie’s heart clenched painfully in his chest.

 

‘Rich?’ Eddie called out, just loud enough to be heard, but not loud enough to startle.

 

Richie’s head snapped up violently, eyes wild behind his glasses.

 

Before Eddie could process it, Richie had scrambled across the room and flung himself at Eddie, sobbing violently into his neck. Eddie swallowed the bitter taste in his mouth, tongue lying fat and useless in his mouth.

 

‘She’s dying, Eds’

 

‘I know, Rich, I know’

 

‘Why do I feel like my heart is being ripped out of my chest?’

 

‘Because you love her, Rich’

 

‘I wish I didn’t’

 

‘I know, Sweetheart, I know’

 

They stood in the middle of the room for what felt like days, weeks even. Clinging desperately to each other. Eddie whispered what he hoped were comforting sweet nothings in Richie’s ear, and Richie hiccupped occasionally but he didn’t cry anymore.

 

Before long, a kind looking doctor with tired eyes shuffled awkwardly into the room, and cleared her throat.

 

‘Mr Tozier?’

 

Richie sprang back from Eddie, wringing his hands.

 

‘Has she? She’s not – She’s not dead already, is she?’

 

‘No, Mr Tozier. You can go and see her now, though, if you like’

 

Richie nodded vigorously, and Eddie put his arm around Richie’s shoulders, gently squeezing the base of his neck when it looked like Richie would never stop nodding.

 

‘Come on, Sweetheart’

 

They walked down corridor after corridor, Richie leading Eddie in and out of elevators, and past hospital staff who sent sympathetic smiles their way. Eventually, Richie stopped outside of a private room.

 

‘They moved her here a few hours ago. It’s – it’s the room they move people to so they can die in peace, apparently’ Richie said, rubbing his hands furiously over his eyes.

 

Eddie didn’t say anything, just pushed the door open and stepped inside.

 

He almost ran straight back out again.

 

Maggie Tozier was lying on a hospital bed, eyes closed and chest heaving up and down erratically. Her skin was pallid, and Eddie couldn’t help but think that she already looked dead. Richie groaned like a wounded animal beside him, snapping him back to reality.

 

‘Hi, Ma’

 

Maggie didn’t say anything. The room was silent apart from the mechanical beeping of the various machines keeping her alive.

 

‘Can she – Can she still talk?’ Eddie whispered, afraid to speak too loudly lest he disturb the artificial peace in the room.

 

‘Oh, she can still talk alright. She was ordering the nurses to get her this and that a few hours ago. She – she just gets tired, Spaghetti, she can’t stay awake for very long’

 

‘Don’t call me that’

 

‘Eddie, my mother is dying.’ Richie replied, deadpan. Eddie flinched.

 

‘Sorry, Richie’

 

The ghost of a smile flashed across Richie’s tightly drawn lips.

 

‘I’m just playing, Eds. Trying to lighten the mood, you know’

 

‘You don’t have to pretend you’re okay, you know. You just covered my neck in snot a few minutes ago, you know, so I know you’re not okay’ Eddie replied.

 

Richie smiled at him, a real smile this time. A sad smile, but a smile nonetheless.

 

‘I know. Thank you, Eddie’

 

‘Don’t thank me, Richie. That’s weird. I’m in this for the long haul, Rich, you must know that by now. Don’t thank me for doing things like this.’

 

Richie didn’t reply, just closed his eyes and smiled again.

 

Eddie glanced back at Maggie, who was looking at them both with eyebrow cocked.

 

‘Richard?’

 

‘Oh, so it’s awake now, is it?’ Richie replied, crossing his arms across his chest.

 

‘Don’t be an ass, Richard. Hello, Edward’

 

‘Hello, Ms Tozier’ Eddie replied, acutely aware of the tension spawning in the air. He’d felt this happen once before, a few weeks ago. Richie and Maggie had yelled at each other for _hours_ that night. Eddie had tried to play mediator but Maggie had just yelled at him, then, and that had just made Richie yell more.

 

‘Richard, why won’t you just go home?’ Maggie asked, plainly, as if she was asking him to go to the shop to get her a pint of milk.

 

‘I’ve told you this before, Ma, I don’t _want_ to go home’ Richie replied through gritted teeth.

 

Eddie didn’t dare breathe.

 

‘There is no _point_ in you waiting here, Richard. You’re just waiting for me to die. I am just waiting for me to die. Just go home. They’ll ring you when it’s finally happened. Go away, Richard. I don’t want you here’ 

 

‘You’re a sick son of a bitch, Ma, you know that right? Who the fuck says that shit to their _child?’_

 

‘Language!’ Maggie scolded, but her voice was weak. Eddie had only known Maggie for a few months, but watching her sharp decline had been, quite frankly, disturbing. Eddie couldn't help but selfishly think about what would happen when this was his own mother, lying pitifully in a hospital bed, bleating for her ' _Eddieeeeeeee'._

 

‘No! Fuck you! You don’t get to say that to me! You don’t get to decide whether I wait here! You don’t get to –‘ Richie trailed off. He was panting, and his hands were screwed into fists at his side. Eddie snapped out of his introspection, and tried to reach towards Richie, desperate to soothe him. Richie flinched away from Eddie's outstretched hand.

 

‘Fuck you, Maggie. Just – fuck you’

 

With that, Richie stormed out of the room. Eddie could hear him scream something in the hall way, before the characteristic sound of Richie’s old boots stomping down linoleum floor was replaced by silence.

 

‘I don’t know why he behaves like that, Edward’

 

The sound of Maggie’s scratchy voice echoed sadly around the room.

 

Eddie doesn’t say anything.

 

‘I know I failed him, Edward. I know I should have loved him harder, protected him from myself. I know I probably should have sent him to London with Went. I guess I’m not the mothering type, Edward. He wasn’t what I wanted him to be. He didn’t go to law school, and he didn’t want to learn the trumpet and he wouldn’t learn French. He made my life _so damn_ _hard,_ and I couldn’t love him like a mother should love a child because he wasn’t the child I wanted.’

 

Eddie doesn’t say anything.

 

‘I know he’s a good kid, though. He’s loyal. He came home when I needed him to. I wonder why he did that, Eddie? I wonder why he came to help me in my hour of need, even though a mutual dislike exists between us?’

 

‘You know why, Maggie’

 

Maggie chuckles, a chuckle that sounds so uncannily like Richie that it makes Eddie’s head spin.

 

‘Yes, you’re right. I do know why. At least he has you, Edward.’ Maggie said, urgently. She grabbed Eddie’s hand, pulling him towards her. Eddie stumbles towards the bed, and Maggie stares up at him with pleading eyes.

 

‘Love him like I never could. Love him fiercely, Eddie. Love him fiercely and utterly. He deserves it’

 

Eddie couldn’t speak. He couldn’t breathe. Maggie was staring at him with these expectant, challenging eyes.

 

‘I will, Maggie’ he spluttered, ‘I will’

 

* * *

 

 

Maggie Tozier died two hours after Richie stormed out of her room. He never did see his mother die. Eddie did, though. He was slumped in the chair next to her bed, reading aloud from one of her romance novels, and when he glanced up at her, he saw that her eyes were glassy and her chest wasn’t moving. She had a smile on her face. She looked blissful, peaceful. A single, solitary tear chased its way down Eddie’s cheek.

 

Richie came back thirty minutes after Maggie died. Eddie hadn’t told anyone. He didn’t want to risk a doctor trying to take her away before Richie had said his goodbyes.

 

Richie didn’t cry when he saw his mother lying lifeless on the bed. He stroked her cheek, and pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead.

 

‘Sleep tight, old girl’

 

‘She did love you, you know’

 

‘I know, Eds’

 

‘In her own weird way’

 

‘I know, Eds’

 

‘I love you, Richie’

 

Richie’s hand froze where it had been stroking Maggie’s bald head.

 

‘Eddie’ Richie cautioned, voice low. ‘Eddie you can’t say that if you don’t mean it’

 

‘Richie, I love you’

 

‘Eddie you can only say that if you really, really mean it. You have to mean it, don’t say it just because my mother died’

 

‘I love you’

 

‘Eddie’

 

‘Richie, Sweetheart, I love you’

 

Richie glances at Eddie, before a strangled noise not unlike an angry goose forces its way out of his throat. Eddie would have laughed if the air wasn’t so heavy.

 

‘I love you, too’ Richie breathes, before throwing himself at Eddie.

 

* * *

 

 

Eddie works in a bakery. His life was finally simple. He loved his job, he loved his friends, he loved his shitty little apartment with its shitty little balcony that he shared with his boyfriend. He loved the plants he kept on his balcony. He loved that he could see the New York skyline when it was an especially clear day. He loved that he could hear Richie’s voice filtering from the old radio late at night when he was lonely, knowing that in a few hours he’d wake up to Richie clambering into bed, whispering a soft ‘ _love you, baby’_ into his shoulder before falling asleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT. IS. DONE!
> 
> This story has come to an end, and these boys bid thee farewell for now.
> 
> Thank you SO MUCH to everyone who has been supporting this story since I started writing it! I've been so so busy recently, so I hope this concluding chapter makes up for my absence. 
> 
> I'm going to miss writing this story. It's the first thing I've ever finished. 
> 
> Lemme know what you loved and what you hated!! <3
> 
> You can also catch me on tumblr; @thefutureisnotsobright
> 
> thank you for reading x


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